Dolls
by Godell
Summary: Anime AU. Envy has had his revenge at last. But a pawn without motivation is a worthless piece. Envy finds himself forced to Roy Mustang's side in order to survive. At least he has a mechanic and a madman to keep him company. Envy/Winry/Kimbley. HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

This is a gift (that will hopefully keep on growing) for my cousin Karrana. It's an AU based loosely off an RP we've been doing for the past few years. In it, the Elric Brothers don't exist, but everyone else in the FMA cast does. At the moment, I have no idea whether this fic is going to have actual romance or hint at pairings, but I _do _know that it will be quite fun.

Incidentally, this fic might have a very bizarre updating schedule, since I'd like to keep this fic going along with my Black Cat fanfiction _Amantes sunt Amentes_ and other works. But I _do _plan on metaphorically milking this idea for all it's worth.

(Oh, and Karrana? _SURPRISE!_)

**Dolls**

** By**

** Godell**

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter One: In Which Roy and Envy Get More Than They Bargained For

* * *

_The white pawn is sent forward first, tiny and helpless in the midst of a battlefield of black and white. A pawn as seemingly fragile as a porcelain doll, a plaything in a madwoman's hands. _

_Seemingly._

* * *

Envy was thoroughly, utterly _ticked off_.

He slouched as much as he was able to slouch, encased as he was in a series of ever-entwining chains specifically designed to "entrap Homunculi". He was strapped to a chair and staring uncomfortably at a very bright light. Granted, he wasn't exactly "entrapped" so much as playing the role of "captured villain". James Bondage, if you will.

Dante wanted someone to infiltrate the military—someone to play a few mind games, blackmail a squadron or two, and make a few high-ranking officers more than a little confused and humiliated. Envy was on to that idea like a brat in a candy store. Lead people on a wild goose chase? No problem! Gain the trust of those around him? Get "captured", tied up very uncomfortably, and brought in for questioning? Maybe.

Get kicked out of the house when he complained (even if it was "to make it more authentic")?

No. Bloody. _Way. _

Envy wriggled around some more, attempting to figure out exactly _how _Lust had tied the damn chains so tightly. He knew that the chains themselves were broken easily enough…or they _would _have been. The problem was Lust had made _absolutely sure _to have the chains crisscross over each other repeatedly, and they tightly wrapped his arms and legs, rendering him all-but-immobile.

_When I get back she is _dead_, _Envy thought to himself, growling as the rattling of the chains seemed to mock him.

* * *

Colonel Roy Mustang, alias the Flame Alchemist, was more than happy to leave his paperwork and question the newly captured Homunculus.

He walked down the hallway at a brisk pace, hands in his pockets, ready to put on his gloves and snap away if needed—though he doubted it would be necessary, as the Homunculi had made it quite clear in the past to avoid provoking him.

He caught the eyes of a few secretaries, smiled, winked and continued on his way, pleased at the gleeful giggles that accompanied his passing along the corridor.

It must have been the hair—recently cut, fine and coal-black—or perhaps his eyes…

Or his potential as an up-and-coming officer.

"Don't get distracted, sir," Riza Hawkeye informed him, her expression as stern as it always was. She may have _looked _pretty—honey blonde hair, rich brown eyes and tanned skin—but she was his Lieutenant for a reason.

"Don't worry, I know what I have to do." Roy yawned and stretched, enjoying the way his new military medals glinted in the sunlight. Ah, promotion. Such a wonderful thing. "So, any news on what this Homunculus' abilities are?"

"…Shapeshifting I believe, sir. At least that's what the soldier who captured him said." Hawkeye tapped a clipboard with the report nestled comfortably on it. "Actually, he said that someone else seemed to have captured the creature first. The Furher seems a little more pleased than usual, but one can only assume."

"Hmm…interesting." Roy frowned as he pushed the door of the questioning room open. "Well, then, let's see what this Homunculus looks like."

"Should I come too?" Hawkeye asked, resting her hand on her holster.

Roy shook his head and smiled confidently. "I'll handle this."

"Even if it's a woman, sir?" Hawkeye raised an eyebrow, her eyes holding a trace of amusement.

"Why would I not be able to handle that?" Roy asked innocently, cocking his head to one side.

Hawkeye chuckled softly. "When it comes to women, you're easy to exploit."

"Except when it comes to you, Lieutenant."

"Only because I have my gun ready, and a new pile of paperwork for you later."

Roy winced. "Lovely."

"I'll be waiting."

"Thanks."

He stepped into the room, and…

…Felt his eyebrows rise up somewhere past his scalp. Or at least, that was what he _felt _like they were doing.

He had always enjoyed the sight of miniskirts on a woman—hitting puberty in a private boarding school helped quite a lot—but back then he had not been unsureof the wearer's _gender_.

Roy looked the Homunculus up and down. The long, green hair could have been any gender, the black, midriff-baring top didn't help, but the _skirt…_or at least it _looked _like a skirt…

The Ouroborus tattoo didn't help much either: placed directly in between where the creature's skirt-thing ended and its thighs began, the crimson mark seemed to glow in the vibrant lamp light. The creature's legs were a strange mixture of both feminine and masculine, and ever-so-slightly accented by muscle.

In the back of his mind, Roy secretly hoped it was a girl. And that 'she' was attracted to him. Not that _that _would be any trouble—

The Homunculus grinned, showing off very sharp teeth. "What's wrong, Colonel?" it asked, its voice deep and purring, almost sounding like a boy going through puberty, only better. "Getting a little…_confused_?"

Roy's eyebrows rose further, and his mouth sagged open in astonishment.

_It's…male? Well, fine, I can…sort of see how that would work… _

"I _would _just morph my clothes off to prove it, but I'm _sure _you've got much more important things on your oh-so-_steely _mind. Oh, and in case you're wondering, this is a skort. Sorry to disappoint." The Homunculus rolled his eyes and suggestively shifted in his chair.

Roy cleared his throat and reverted to his usual mindset of cool and reserved. "Thank you for reminding me—"

"—My pleasure—" The Homunculus interjected, looking the epitome of your atypical sarcastic teenager.

"—About why I'm here," Roy continued coldly. "You were found outside Central HQ, unconscious and bound. Do you remember why?"

The Homunculus shrugged, still grinning. "Hell if I know."

Roy rolled his eyes. "We'll see about that. I'll ask again later. What's your name? How were you made?"

"Envy…though my 'creator' bit the big one a few months back. Him _and _his pretty little wife and kids." He smiled wickedly. "You should have _seen _their faces! Gold eyes filled with fear…"

Roy glowered at Envy, hating the look on the Homunculus' face—like he was savoring some sort of fine appetizer. "Do you know how you were made?"

"Top secret. No trespassers." Envy made a face at him and turned his interest to a crack on the floor.

"How many of you Homunculi are there?"

"Awfully blunt, aren't you? Getting straight to the point. No hedging, no sugar-coating, just…questions. _Fascinating._"

"Answer the question!"

"There are…five now, counting me." Envy's look turned back to him, curious. "How many siblings do _you _have, Colonel?"

Roy's mind briefly reran the memory of a train rolling away. "None of your business. _I'm _the one asking questions."

"Oh, you must've been an only child." Envy's expression turned thoughtful. "Let's see…where did you grow up?"

"I _told _you, I'm—"

Envy's lips curled. "I _see. _You grew up near an army base, didn't you? _Very _interesting. Was your Papa an officer, too? Were you proud to be his son?"

Roy felt a growl rumble in the back of his throat. Envy seemed to be pressing down lightly on every one of his most sensitive nerves. He tried to interrupt again, but Envy was too quick for him:

"I'm assuming he died. Oooh, I was _right. _Where'd he die, Colonel? In the trenches? Out at sea? From some illness or other? Or…" Envy gasped in surprise. "Oh, _my. _A family feud? How _terrible._"

Roy closed his eyes and thought about what his father had taught him: look at the entire picture.

He opened his eyes and surveyed Envy's smug expression again. He was smug, yes, but also shackled tightly enough that it was clear it was affecting his "blood" circulation. He was bluffing—or attempting to amuse himself in some sick way.

"You know, for a Homunculus who's barely able to breathe properly, you're certainly _game_," he said coolly, folding his arms across his chest. "Chances are, if I leave you here, you'll probably lose the use of your limbs."

It was Envy's turn to pause.

"Chances, chances, chances," Roy said softly, setting his hands on the armrests of Envy's chair. "There's a chance that you'll be sent off to the labs for tests. There's a chance you'll be made into a sideshow freak for the military's entertainment. Hell, there's even a chance I'll just burn you to pieces before _they _get to you."

He tapped his fingers against the moldy wood for emphasis, letting Envy take in the transmutation circles on his gloves.

Nothing from Envy.

"Did you know," Roy continued, his eyes never leaving Envy's face, "that Xing's been looking for the proper consort for their Prince? To literally have whomever you wanted…the Prince would be very pleased. And then there's Drachma. We need _something _to solidify our peace treaty. A pretty creature like you would do fine—though maybe they'd want to break you in first."

Roy watched a flicker of doubt pass over Envy's eyes.

"Those are all chances, all possibilities. At this moment, Envy, you're nothing but a doll for the military to use. You're _worse _than a military dog—you're either information or _a bargaining chip._"

Envy couldn't hide the look in his eyes. Not for one _second. _

"But there's one final chance." Roy leaned forward, close enough that their noses were almost able to touch. "There's a chance that, if you answer my questions, you'll be put under my care. And maybe we'll sort things out—i.e., let you go free."

Envy stared at him silently, then shrugged, making the chains rattle. "I'll bet Master never expected _this _when he tossed me out. Well, I guess we'll see."

"Good."

* * *

_A smile with teeth that are far too sharp graces the first player's lips._

"_Your move, Colonel."_

_The game has begun._


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Two: In Which A Great Decision Is Made, and Envy Finds His Match

* * *

"_Really, is that the best you can think up?" the second player asks, grinning as he sets out his own pawn—ebony black, the same color as his hair._

"_I'd say the same for you. You _sure _that's the right move?" The first player rolls his eyes and watches him intently. _

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Envy followed along beside the Colonel, grinning wickedly.

"So, Ponyboy, where're we headed now?" he asked. A pretty woman pointed her gun coldly at the small of his back. "To a cell, or to the next round of sycophants?"

He was thankful at least that the chains around his legs had been released—but his hands were still bound tightly as ever, and would be until some alchemist thought of a different means of keeping him from attacking anyone. Not that he planned to.

"We're _going_ to my office, where I'll assign you to someone's care. And the name is _Colonel Mustang_."

"Whatever, Ponyboy. Any idea what you're going to have me doing?" Envy could think of a few already: assassin, spy…

"It all depends on who wants to risk their necks."

Envy chuckled. "Better be careful—I bite the hand that doesn't feed me."

"I'm not surprised."

They continued walking down one hall after another in an endless white maze. The floor was a rich mahogany, with barely-visible scuffs from the many boots that had marched over its dark brown surface over the years. Envy gazed down at the floor thoughtfully, noting how the Lieutenant woman's steps were almost exactly in time with the Colonel's, as though she had been following him for a very long time.

_Interesting… _Envy thought with a smirk, turning his head to gaze at the Lieutenant's body with the casual interest of an actor.

The way she wielded her gun with such…_ladylike _hands was astonishing. She was pale, and clearly all business. She reminded him of Lust—only without the revealing outfit, of course.

"So, how long have you been under Ponyboy's command, Lieutenant?" he asked, enjoying the feel of the warm, sunlit floor under his open-toed stockinged feet.

"Since Ishbal," the Lieutenant replied, her countenance cold. "I've grown very adept at handling troublesome people, Homunculus. And call him _Colonel._"

"It's Envy," Envy said, smiling lazily, "and I'm sure you're very skilled at scaring your superior into submission. But I'm not that easy to control. And 'Ponyboy' suits the great _Mustang._"

"Oh?" The Colonel said simply, adjusting his coat for the fifth time. "_You_ were certainly compliant with me."

The bastard didn't need to elaborate. But then Envy was adept at getting people to see only what they wanted to see—either physically or otherwise.

Envy remained silent as they entered Roy's area of Central Headquarters. Heads turned, mouths dropped open, and pens were dropped as Mustang's little men began to whisper among themselves.

"All right, everyone, listen up," The Colonel commanded.

The room fell into silence.

"Clearly you've all heard about the Homunculus the military captured a short while ago_. _Well, the creature is under our care for the time being. And for the record, Havoc, I _really _doubt _he's_ interested in you. Sorry—he's a very confusing creature."

Envy sniggered as the blond-haired smoker stepped back in astonishment. "Yeah, you heard him right," he added. "Look up 'androgyny' in the dictionary—I'm believe it applies to me."

The Colonel cleared his throat. "Now the only question is: who's going to take care of him? We need someone who's able to handle difficult situations, defuse exploding tempers—"

"—You would know, Ponyboy—" Envy added, sniggering again.

"—And _someone who can handle this sort of crap constantly,_" The Colonel continued, glowering at him.

Envy stared at the men, his eyes mockingly wide. "Oh, why would I trouble any of _you?_" he asked.

In all honesty, Envy knew none of them would be able to handle him for long: a redheaded fatso, a bespectacled small fry, and a tall, haggard man? What could _they _do?

Envy laughed. "C'mon, you pathetic bastards, do your worst," he taunted, showing off his razor-sharp teeth.

At that moment, the door flew open, and a cheerful voice cried:

"Yo, Roy! Wanna see what Alicia did at her friend's birthday party? I know you'll _love _it!"

Envy whipped around to come face-to-face with another bespectacled man with slicked back black hair. A long strand pointed out at the world like an accusing finger. His eyes were a warm, friendly yellow-green with more than a small amount of sly thoughtfulness behind them. Good intentions practically seeped from the man—he was, in essence, the epitome of a perfect soldier and family man.

"Major Hughes," The Colonel said shortly from behind Envy. "Not now. We're having a discussion."

Hughes' gaze focused on Envy, then at the tattoo on his thigh. "Pretty scandalous getup, kiddo!" He laughed and clapped him on the shoulder companionably. "Y'know, you look a lot less helpless than I'd expect. But whatever floats your boat."

"…What?" Envy managed to say, his jaw going slack.

_No human _had ever talked to him so…_casually _before. Lust and Greed were the only ones to ever do so (though Greed tended to have a nasty insult right on the tip of his oily tongue).

Not only that, but the man—Hughes—had figured out that Envy was perfectly capable of breaking out of his bonds, and had said it so nonchalantly that one barely even noticed.

"So, Roy, you trying to figure out what to do with this guy?" Hughes turned back to Roy and grinned. "I doubt anyone's going to agree to keep him in their house. Not even Riza'd be able to handle him for long—he looks like a bit of a handful."

Envy watched as Hughes' gaze moved back to him—no longer deliberately overzealous, but instead contemplative…

"What're you hinting at, Hughes?" The Colonel asked, his gaze stern. "Do _you _want to take charge of him?"

"It'd be good for Alicia to see new people," Hughes replied, grinning lazily. "And you and I know I can handle myself."

"Hey," Envy began, as the other men walked out the door, chattering happily about lunch. "I don't want to be a part of this guy's big happy family—"

"I suppose you could do well enough Hughes," The Colonel mused, ignoring Envy. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Hughes rested his hand on his own holster and continued to smile. "He won't cause trouble."

"Hey—"

"Do you think you'll be able to deal with his insults?"

"Sure."

Envy growled. "_Hey!_"

"And what about…"

Envy continued to growl as the discussion meandered onward, leaving him completely ignored.

* * *

_The dark-haired player grins. "I think it's the perfect move."_

_ The first player sniggers and twirls another piece in his hand. "We'll see, won't we?"_

_ "Don't underestimate him." The dark-haired player moves his knight forward, still grinning. _

_ "Perhaps I won't."_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Three: In Which Envy and Roy Show Surprising Self-Restraint

* * *

_The first player moves his pawn closer, smiling secretively._

_ "What're you thinking of?" the second player asks, drumming his fingers on the board._

_ "Oh, nothing."_

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Hughes glanced in the rearview mirror to examine the Homunculus' sullen, childish look.

"You should at least be happy that you're unchained, you know," he commented easily into the silent rumbling of the car. "I know that you could fight me anytime you wanted. Even kill me, if it came down to it. So why haven't you done anything?"

The Homunculus shrugged his bony shoulders and grinned. "Where else can I go? Besides, your hand's on the handle of your knife right now. You'd ruin my adorable form!"

"You can heal yourself, though, right?"

The Homunculus shrugged again, idly blowing a green strand of hair out of his eyes. "I don't like fighting," he said casually. "It hurts."

_Well, _that's _a childish line of thinking, _Hughes thought to himself with a chuckle. _I wonder how old he actually is?_

"Whatever. Hey, we're almost home! I can't wait until you see my beautiful wife and little girl! Alicia—my daughter—is so adorable, I'm sure even _you _won't be able to resist her!" Hughes couldn't help but let his love for his family boil over into two parts bragging and one part "getting to know the new kid".

The Homunculus made a face. "Kids? Ewww."

Hughes frowned. "Why do you think that?"

"Easy. They cry, they puke, they shriek, they're too _naïve. _They don't really learn anything."

"Have you been around kids recently?"

The Homunculus shook his head. "My Master isn't fond of brats."

"Well, there you go. I'm sure once you see Alicia—"

"—I'll run away screaming at the cavity-inducing darling."

Hughes laughed. "Well, you never know—but remember…" His tone turned serious. "Where else can you go, Mr.…?"

"Envy."

"Right. Envy. Well, we're here."

Hughes stepped out of the car. He decided to be nice and opened the door for Envy, who grinned wryly at him before hopping out as well. He tried to hide his satisfaction at Envy's appreciative gaze at his living quarters.

Or at least he _thought _it was appreciative.

"Oh, how charming." Envy snorted. "An apartment building as wholesome as a balanced breakfast."

Hughes smoothed his hair down, pouting for emphasis. "Hey, hey, you can't go complaining, Envy. Besides, the roof of our old house caved in last winter. Miss Rockbell, from a few doors down was kind enough to help us out and found us a new place. She fixed the pipes for us, too."

Envy waved his hand dismissively. "So, she's mechanically inclined…yeah, yeah, a friend in need and all that. Let's just get inside."

Envy couldn't help but nearly go into attack mode at the door of Hughes' apartment.

Hughes' daughter, Alicia—a little fawn-haired darling in pink-ribboned pigtails and a smile that could stop even Gluttony in his tracks—shoved open the door to the apartment with her tiny, three-year-old hands and all-but launched herself into her father's arms.

"Daddy, you're home!" she squealed, her innocent green eyes shining with delight and love.

"I missed you, Alicia!" Hughes cried, holding her tightly and grinning as only a crazy parent could.

Envy made his discomfort obvious as he turned his gaze to Hughes' wife. Clearly little Alicia had inherited her looks from her mother. She had the same kind green eyes, the same fawn hair (though cut prim and short). She wore a ankle-length tan skirt, and a cashmere sweater.

Her smile was warm and welcoming—albeit a little surprised—as she gazed back at Envy.

Envy suddenly had the urge to throw up.

A slight squeak broke his reverie.

"Daddy, who's this weird octopus guy?"

Blinking, Envy stared down at this particular form of Fuzzy Feelings that stood before him, her eyes wide and curious. He blinked again.

"…You're kidding, right?" he asked, fighting the urge to kick the girl away from him.

Hughes and Gracia laughed good-naturedly. "Sweetie, this is Envy. He's going to be staying with us for awhile."

Automatically Envy responded with "Charmed" and gave a stiff bow—Dante had engrained social etiquette into his mind from day one, and he _loathed _how he still followed those rules with automatic ease.

But then, being taught etiquette while at the same time being repeatedly _stabbed_ would do that to anyone. Even _Greed _had learned his lesson eventually, though he hadn't learned it well enough.

_Still, _Envy thought idly, _I'm supposed to gain their trust. This'll be the quickest way._

Gracia let out a slight gasp in astonishment at Envy's graceful bow. "I've never seen someone act like that before—well, except for you, honey," she said with a smile at Hughes' slightly-jealous expression.

"My…_ex-Boss _taught me well," Envy replied easily, his lips curling into a grin that was only the slightest bit forced. "I _would _kiss your hand, as she taught me as well, but I don't think Hughes would like that."

Gracia laughed. "I wouldn't either—Maes here is more than enough when it comes to formalities. Please, come in. I have dinner ready."

Envy reluctantly followed Hughes and Alicia inside, quickly running over Dante's instructions in his mind before closing the door behind him.

* * *

"Sir?"

"Hmm?" Roy sat up and tossed yet another misspelled letter by some foolish Major into the wastebasket. "What's wrong, Lieutenant?"

Hawkeye placed the tenth manila folder of the evening on the black mahogany desk. "I was wondering if you think that Envy creature will truly comply with us. You seem…almost _too _confident, if I may say so."

"Lieutenant," Roy said seriously, "remember that I've given you permission to do whatever is necessary to accomplish our goals."

Hawkeye gave him a searching look, but continued to voice her opinions. "He's a killer, sir. I could smell the blood on his hands, even though he was covering it up with some other scent. To let him go with Major Hughes…"

_It _does _seem like a foolish idea, but I'm not sure… _Roy let his lips quirk into a smile. "Lieutenant, if there's anyone who can get the truth out of someone—or make them _see _truth—it's definitely Hughes."

Hawkeye still looked doubtful, her hands resting on his desk in a stark contrast against the glossy dark surface.

Roy's eyes grew cold.

"Trust me, if anything happens to Hughes or his family, Envy _will _suffer."

Hawkeye smiled. "I do trust you, sir. I know you're a hard man to break. Now. _This _stack is due tomorrow morning…" She shuffled several additional envelopes under Roy's nose.

Roy sighed. _Some things never change._

* * *

_The second player sends out yet another pawn, his eyes half-lidded. _

_ "How very original," the first player murmurs, still smiling._

_ "Call it a tried and true method."_

_ "We'll see, won't we?"_

_ The second player sighs. "Do you always say that?"_

_ "Always."_

_ The game continues. _


	4. Chapter 4

This chapter was brought to you by the song "Cherry Lips" by _Garbage. _

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot and the Central Military Associates Institute (or CMAI)

Chapter Four: In Which There Are School Uniforms, Hormones, And A Familiar Wrench

* * *

_The first player moves his pawn forward—the one on the far left, well away from the second player's open pieces. _

"_You're taking a risk," the second player remarks, running his hand deftly across his line of ebony-black pieces. _

_The first player chuckles, eyes wide with mock astonishment. "What are you, my counselor?"_

_The second player rolls his eyes. _

"_Don't worry," the first player says with a smile. "I'm very patient."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Hughes placed the phone back on the receiver and turned to Envy. "Hey, kiddo. You'll never guess what Roy just ordered."

Envy yawned and rubbed his eyes blearily, munching half-heartedly on his toast (he preferred sweets to any "healthy" foods). "No. Tired. Leave message at desk."

Hughes rolled his eyes. He would never have pegged _Envy _of all people for being a heavy sleeper, but lo and behold, there he was—sitting at the kitchen table in a long black t-shirt with rumpled hair and looking about ready to fall asleep in his scrambled eggs.

"Too bad, sport. See, Roy decided that it would be best to put you in a setting with lots of soldiers and alchemists—and maybe get that attitude of yours straightened out." Hughes chuckled and smoothed back his hair. "Starting today, you're going to the Central Military Associates Institute—a school for people who want to help their country without joining the army or State Alchemists."

Envy stared at Hughes blankly for a minute, seeming to not comprehend.

"So…you mean I have to go to _school._"

Hughes grinned. "Exactly."

"With _humans. _Lots of them."

"Yup."

"Do they know I'm a Homunculus?"

"Yeah, according to Roy. He said the students were pretty excited to see you, actually."

"…And what exactly do I get in return?" Envy asked, showing his teeth in a brief flash of a grin.

Hughes shrugged. "Well, you won't get cabin fever. And who knows, maybe you'll get a fan club."

Envy yawned and stretched, sliding out of his seat with surprising grace for someone who had previously been half-asleep. "Fine. When's school start?"

Hughes chuckled. "In five minutes."

"Of course," Envy said bitterly. "What's the uniform? There's got to be one, if it's military operated, right?"

"Yeah. For the girls, a white blouse, blue plaid skirt and bobby socks and saddle shoes. For you—I think—you'll be a knockout in your white shirt and dark blue trousers…and saddle shoes. You'll fit in. You'll just have to follow the other boys and girls on their road to learning."

Envy grinned. "Who says I'm going to follow something as lame as a dress code?"

* * *

Winry Rockbell moved quickly to the CMAI campus, thankful that there were no strong winds that morning.

Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail as always, though it was messier than usual. She still wasn't used to getting up so early in the morning. In Risenbool, she had slept in regularly—after all, she worked hard on automail construction and research at night, and it wasn't a good idea to only get an hour of sleep. But that was her situation, take it or leave it.

Unlike the other girls, the only "fashion" she bothered to sport with her school uniform was her tool bag slung over her hips, filled with screwdrivers and her trusty wrench. Her clothes often had oil stains on them, and most officers knew better than to chastise her for doing her job.

_Hopefully they'll stop making us wear white shirts sometime soon, _she grumbled inwardly, irritated that she was now down to her last clean blouse. _They _do _know there are girl mechanics, right? _

She adjusted her book bag for the fifth time, tracing over the worn straps idly. The other girls had stopped making fun of her hand-me-downs after she had fixed the lead girl's bicycle, and now she carried her old books and pencil case with, if not pride, then at least satisfaction.

_They said the military captured a Homunculus today, _she thought, her blue plaid skirt brushing softly against her legs. _I wonder what it's reaction will be when it meets the students here._

As if on cue, a green and white blur shot past her.

Winry stared at the strange boy in front of her, his hands stuffed into his pockets. She had never seen anything like him before—a surprising feat, considering Central's tendencies toward the unusual and the burlesque.

"Hey," the boy said easily, taking one hand out of his pocket to bow dramatically. "The name is Envy. Charmed, pleased to be here today, etc., etc. This _is_ the way to campus, right?"

"Y-yeah," Winry replied, staring unabashedly at the way he wore the school uniform. "You're in the right place." _How did his parents not force him to change clothes? _

"I should hope so," Envy remarked, cocking his head to one side, showing the black choker he wore at a fetching angle. His hair was also tied back in a ponytail, green and wild, with several long strands falling across and around his face. "I don't like having to rush."

Winry nodded, fascinated by the faint gleam of a silver chain around his midriff—the lower buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing his stomach. "That wouldn't be good."

Envy grinned, the sunlight illuminating his pale skin. Winry caught the gleam of metal at his left ear.

"Am I distracting you? Too bad," he said, shrugging and taking off once again. "You human worms are all the same!" He laughed derisively.

Reality kicked in.

"_Hey!_" Winry yelled, charging after him. "I'm not a _worm, _you creep!"

Of course, Envy didn't pay any attention to her. The bell had already rung.

* * *

"Why do I get the feeling Envy's causing trouble?" Roy asked during lunch, taking a bite out of his tuna sandwich.

Hughes laughed and chugged his soda. "Because that's what you expect him to do?"

"I'll bet he's already plotting a new way to mess with people while answering questions as rudely as possible."

Roy glanced out at the city of Central, admiring the whitewashed buildings of the Central Headquarters and the more earthy tones of the rest of the city. As the capital of a military country, it was a sturdy place. Compared to the rest of the country (save Risenbool) Central seemed akin to a lake of ice.

And a Homunculus with a set of morals like a tripwire was currently running around among the city's youth.

Roy groaned and put his hand to his forehead. "Why do I get the feeling I'm going to be saying 'I should have thought this through' a lot more?"

Hughes chuckled. "Well, it's not everyday you get someone like Envy under your command."

"True, true."

* * *

Envy had to admit he was having a lot of fun.

He had caused quite a lot of commotion as soon as he entered the CMAI campus—heads had turned, jaws had dropped, and pheromones filled the air as easily as the smell of flowers.

The teachers—_Professors, _Envy corrected himself mockingly—had attempted to accost him and give him a long lecture about school dress code, but Envy of course had had none of _that. _

It was surprising what a little blackmail could do. The headmaster wouldn't be able to look at his lovely young student for a while without looking over his shoulder to see if Envy was watching.

And now…

Envy lounged in his seat, listening with mild interest to the Professor's lecture on The Arts. Envy was glad at least that the colonel had enrolled him in interesting courses. Better still, if his eyes hadn't fooled him (which he doubted), he had several classes with the blonde he had met that morning. The oil-stained book bag and ponytail were unmistakable.

Better still, she had seen him too.

And even better yet, she had glowered at him with enough spice to make the air sizzle.

Envy, not one to waste such an opportunity, had blown her a kiss as the bell rang.

At which point she had reached into the tool bag around her waist, pulled out a _wrench_, and flung it at him with such force that he felt his head grow a wonderful lump.

Yes, Envy was going to have quite a lot of fun in this school the colonel had been nice enough to enroll him in.

* * *

_"What're you smiling about?" the second player asks, as the first player moves his pawn forward._

_ "Oh, just thinking about a friend."_

_ "I'm sure."_

_ The pieces are moving. _


	5. Chapter 5

I forgot to mention this last chapter: I'll be doing research for my writing for the next few weeks, and so won't be able to write or post for the next few days. Or at least nothing substantial. However, I will at least give you this to enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot and all events herein.

Chapter Five: In Which There Is A Brief Chessboard Analogy

* * *

_In some ways, viewpoints are a chessboard._

_There are different sides in a debate, argument, war; two warring factions wishing to prove themselves right. They use their various ideas like pawns, slowly surveying the territory. Then the leaders begin to use stronger weapons—bigger ideas, more religious ideas, perhaps. _

_Of course, pieces often are taken away due to particular moves, forcing one or both of the opponents to make quick decisions. Plans have to be adjusted, or even replaced with an entirely different strategy. _

_And sometimes, people begin to panic. _

_They start to make silly mistakes—putting their best pieces up before they really think their moves over. And their plans begin to fall apart. _

_ Thus, they lose. And sometimes they never recover from their loss._

_ Sometimes their losses are so great…they never wake up again. _


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Six: In Which There Is An Interesting Conversation and Turn of Events

* * *

_The first player raises an eyebrow. "Your turn."_

_The second player, nodding, moves his central pawn forward to meet the first. "What do you think of that?"_

"_Tricky." _

_The first player grins, then moves his other pawn forward. He captures the second player's first piece._

"_But I'm trick_ier._"_

* * *

_The pieces are moving._

Roy glanced up from his relaxed position behind his desk, a phone book in hand.

"…What are you doing?" he asked, staring up at Envy's smug expression.

"Watching you."

"…_Why?_"

"My professor said that I should always take note of what my role models do. So here I am."

The reply was so syrupy-sweet that Roy nearly buried his head in his hands. He should have known Envy would do _something _irritating. He wished that Hawkeye and the rest were about, but they were on a lunch break.

_Alone with the psycho… _Roy grimaced.

"I am _not _your role model. Now get _out._"

"Hughes is busy, Ponyboy. Where else can an innocent waif like me go, hmm?"

"You're hardly innocent. Or a waif. _Leave._"

Envy chuckled. He was sitting on the desk, leaning back, one leg against a stack of papers, the other dangling from an edge.

Watching Envy, Roy had a feeling that the uniform he wore must have caused a bit of mild hysteria among the students and staff. Envy was one step ahead, as always.

"Nope. Give me something to do. Don't look so miffed, Ponyboy—you should have _something _interesting on your plate."

"_I'm _the commanding officer here, and I say you are disturbing the peace. Now _go._"

"Hmm…" Envy tapped his finger against his lips, putting on a show of looking thoughtful. "You're right, Ponyboy. As my commanding officer, I guess I _am _under your power."

He sat up and leaned forward slowly, so close that Roy could smell the scent of wilting lilies on his hair and skin. Roy moved his chair backward, but that didn't help matters in the least.

"So, what do you want me to be?" Envy asked quietly, his voice seeming to echo in the silence of the empty office.

Roy felt his hands begin to grow slightly clammy. "What are you getting at, _Homunculus?_"

"You want to 'get to the top', right? To be Fuhrer?" Envy grinned, and his eyes glinted deviously. "I can kill one of the higher ups. I can dig up some dirt on their past. I can put in a good word for you here and there in the guise of reliable people. Just say the word."

Roy shook his head, though deep in his mind some part of him was mulling over the possibilities.

Envy laughed. "Oh, come _on, _Ponyboy, I know you're intrigued. I'm very patient—400 years of watching you humans struggle does that to you."

"You'll have to wait a long time."

Roy glared at him, somewhat satisfied when Envy slid off his desk and meandered over to the window, belly chain jingling as he walked.

Envy stuffed his hands in his pockets, his back turned to Roy. Roy watched him silently, noticing Envy's contemplative posture.

"That's what _Edward _said, you know. Before I killed him. Among other things."

Roy blinked. "Who?"

"Edward Elric, the golden boy of the Hoenheim clan. The eldest child. The small one. He was maybe fourteen or fifteen years old." Envy's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "He looked like the perfect sacrifice to some ancient god, pink-skinned and pretty. A regular faunlet."

Roy wanted to ask what a "faunlet" was, but he felt he could guess.

"From the shadows I killed off his family one by one, and left him helpless. I came to him in the evening. I felt that he was…_similar _to me. I guess you could say…he felt like a brother of sorts."

Envy paused, and the sun illuminated his pale neck, showing a few veins lying below his white skin.

"But he refused. So…"

Roy's lips uttered "So?" before he could stop himself.

Envy turned to him and grinned, his eyes filled with something too personal.

"He died screaming, though exactly what I won't tell you. Maybe some other time."

Roy frowned. "You're sick."

Envy sniggered and looked at him through his bangs, lips curled impishly. "And you're naïve."

Gathering himself, Roy turned back to his paperwork.

"You wanted a job, right?"

"Mm-hmm." Envy arched his back and stretched, his shirt rising upward and his belly chain cheerfully jingling.

"Well, then I have a thought or two about that."

Roy handed Envy a stapled packet.

"There's a group of would-be assassins who plan to take out one of our higher ups. The Fuhrer wants me to take care of them. I think you'd do the job nicely. Also, I'd like you to go down to the Prison. There's a man down there who wanted to speak to me before he went to the gallows. You'll do fine. You seem _great _at giving people confidence."

The last bit of sarcasm wasn't lost on Envy.

Envy chuckled. "You bet, Ponyboy. See you later." He took the papers Roy offered. "Ohhh, _him. _A regular celebrity. I'll be _thrilled _to meet him."

Roy stared at the paper before him, not seeing it, and listened as Envy's footsteps faded into the distance.

* * *

Envy washed his hands in the public bathroom of the sleek hotel room, where his poor victims had been staying.

He had enjoyed the job Mustang had given him. It had been awhile since blood had been on his hands, and he wished that he didn't have to get rid of it. Actually, he had spilled blood _everywhere_ on his body, but that was easily fixed in a simple—and literal—change into something more comfortable.

Envy grinned at his reflection in the mirror. He had chosen an outfit similar to Hughes' when the man was off-duty: a rich purple, well-pressed shirt and black pants. It looked pretty good on him.

He walked out the door of the bathroom and headed back out into the world, humming softly to himself.

It was time for the next job.

* * *

Down in Central's prison, right next to Lab 5, in darkness and wet silence, someone else hummed.

His black hair was greasy and unkempt from having been unwashed for many years. His green-gold eyes were nearly obscured by the long, dark tendrils in front of his pale, stubbly face. His hands were locked in an wood contraption designed specially for those waiting for the noose to wrap it's cold, unfeeling arms around their sinful necks.

Still, he was considered the happiest—and the most _insane_—of all the "patrons" who lived in the prison.

But he hadn't been humming for a few weeks. He had grown silent, pensive. Most of the wardens were relieved. Many more were suspicious.

And then suddenly, as if he had heard the kindred spirit moving closer to him, step by graceful step, his humming grew ever louder.

* * *

_The second player frowns. Then reverses the expression. "You're going to have to do better than that."_

"_Oh?" The first player chuckles and settles back in his seat, grinning knowingly. "Good. I'd hate to get bored with this, after all."_

_The second player moves his left rook forward._ _"I doubt you will."_

_The pieces are moving._


	7. Chapter 7

For those of you in the US, Happy 4th of July! For those of you not in the US, happy 4th of July! I hope it isn't too hot wherever you are!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Seven: In Which There Is Another Important Conversation, And Alliances Are Forged

* * *

_The first player raises an eyebrow as he stares at the rook. "That's a pretty blunt move for you."_

_The second player smirks. "It's not like you're being subtle, either." He pointed to the first player's rook. "They're going to collide."_

"_And make beautiful sparks, yes." The first player sighs dreamily. "Such a wonderful sight, watching two people butt heads and then combine into one."_

"_Creep."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Envy hummed incessantly as he walked through the halls of Central's prison, reveling in the bleak stares and forlorn weeping about him.

"Oh, _please_, everyone," he said casually, kicking a bucket of gruel over and watching as it spilled across the cold concrete like a pandemic. "It's a good idea to at least look on the bright side. Maybe you'll get to see your loved ones before they hang you."

Of course, that didn't soothe the stupid humans at all.

Envy couldn't care less—he was on an assignment, as always, but unlike those assignments in the past, he was having _fun. _Mustang was a interesting individual; a human who wanted to be a god, a savior, a saint. He was a human who wanted to stand on top of the Tower of Babel and scream out his ideals in a universal language.

Envy wanted to watch him fall—or at the very least _slip_.

Envy finally reached the darkest corner of the prison, where someone else was humming. It was a slick, rich sort of voice, like oil or honey. Or perhaps a mixture of both. He could see the dark, lank hair of the figure in between the bars, and the grimy tan prison garb the figure wore.

But it was the marks on his hands, held securely in a wooden stock, that were the biggest giveaway. The transmutation circles completely covered his palms. The one on his left was a circle with a triangle and black dot in the center, while on his right a triangle and sickle moon were in the center of the circle.

_Incredible. Unique, actually, _Envy thought, grinning triumphantly. _Looks like I've found you…Red Lotus Alchemist. _

"Hello there," Envy called, walking up to the cell and squatting down beside the bars. "You must be Kimbley, right?"

The man turned his head and smiled a smile as oily as his voice. "Why, yes. Zolf J. Kimbley, the _ex-Red Lotus Alchemist_. A pleasure to meet you, Mister…?" He blinked, his green-gold eyes beautiful in their hint of insanity. He was quite different from Hughes.

"Envy. Charmed." Envy inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I've come to ask a few questions. Colonel Mustang sent me."

Kimbley's eyes widened. "_Mustang!_" He said the name like it belonged to an old friend…which Envy doubted was true. "So, the brave hero of Ishbal is still working hard, hmm?"

Envy grinned wickedly. "Oh, yes. And his faithful Lieutenant Hawkeye is still beside him. You could say I'm his most recent…_fan._"

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "So, you're the kind who follows orders for fun?" He grinned in return. "Great minds think alike."

"Yes, yes," Envy murmured, feeling something inside him grow warm in approval. "Do you know how long you have until your execution?"

"Three days, I suppose. You lose track of time in this place."

Envy nodded absently. "All right. Next question: are you willing to be under Colonel Mustang's command?"

Kimbley smirked. "I'm under no one's command, _Envy_."

Envy almost purred in amusement. "Even as a…joke?"

"A joke?" Kimbley looked genuinely confused for a moment. Then he grinned. "_Oh. _Oh, my. Such a cruel person you are, Envy."

"Wouldn't it be fun to watch Pony—I mean _Mustang _give in to 'the Spirit that denies'?" Envy snickered and leaned back against the wall. "I've got to admit, I question whether _you _could resist the temptation?"

"Temptation? What temptation?" Kimbley asked, his lank hair falling into his eyes.

"Can you resist the idea of having power? Being above the rest?" Envy grasped the bars of the cell and leaned forward, face-to-face with Kimbley. "Have you been lead into temptation, have you already been bought?"

"Good question. I'd say that I'm pretty much _sold_…to my ideals, that is."

"Which are?" Envy asked, brows raised expectantly.

"Survivor of the fittest. Whichever species wins the war is the dominant and _greatest _species."

Envy smiled. "I like it. Well, fine then."

With that, Envy stood up and spun on his heels, making his way out of the prison. But before he left the room, he called over his shoulder:

"You have until evening tomorrow to make your choice. I'll be waiting…_patiently._"

* * *

_The first player grins and tosses the second player's rook away. "One more taken. What'll you do now?"_

_The second player frowns. "I'll try a different strategy." He moves his pawn forward._

"_Going back to your original idea, huh?" _

"_I suppose you could say that. Of course, what do you plan to do now?" The second player raises an eyebrow._

_The first player chuckles. "Why, continue watching your every move, of course."_

_The pieces are moving. _


	8. Chapter 8

Sorry about the delay everyone! At the moment I'm working out the rather large, tangled web of alliances that is going to come into play very soon. Hopefully it will make sense to you when you see it.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Eight: In Which Gracia Is Far More Manipulative Than She Looks, and Envy and Hughes Attempt To Come To An Agreement

* * *

_The first player stares out at the pieces on the board, his expression tense._

"_What is it?" the second player asks, resting his hands on the table._

"_Nothing. Just…thinking." _

"_Why can't you tell me?"_

"_Because it's none of your business." The first player rests his fingers on his knight._

"_Touché." _

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

"Welcome home, Envy," Gracia said with a smile as she set the newest batch of cookies on the kitchen counter. "Did school go well?"

She was rewarded with a smug expression and a pale hand reaching out for a warm cookie. "It went all right. People were…_impressed _by my uniform."

Gracia laughed. "I'm sure they were," she said, taking note of his purple and black attire. "But I'm more interested in why you're now dressed like my husband."

Envy shrugged, and Gracia noted that his smug expression barely wavered. "Just a different look."

"You know, Alicia was wondering whether you would play with her." Gracia leaned against the counter, watching Envy take another cookie. "Her friends are over."

Envy gave her the most scornful look Gracia had ever seen. "But _Mrs. Huuuuughes_," he whined mockingly, pouting his lip for effect, "I have _homewoooork!_"

_For an immortal, he's certainly childish… _Gracia sighed and tapped her fingers against the counter. "What's your favorite food, Envy?"

Envy snickered. "I don't _have _to eat."

"But you _can_," Gracia retorted softly, a smile tugging at her lips. "As you've just proven."

She laughed as he looked down at his hand, still holding the cookie. His expression was one of frustration and humiliation, with a hint of confusion hidden underneath. His cheeks flushed.

"Sh-shut up," he growled, eating the cookie anyway.

"Well? Are you willing to answer my question?" Gracia smiled and smoothed out her soft green dress.

"…Chocolate parfait."

Gracia blinked. "Hm?"

"Chocolate parfait. That's my favorite food."

Gracia nodded. "All right, then. If you play with Alicia this afternoon, I'll make chocolate parfait for dessert. You'll have time to do your homework, I'm sure."

She watched as Envy mulled over the possibilities. Finally he sighed and rubbed his temples. "Fine, fine, I'll play with her. But just this once."

Gracia smiled. It was strange—the Homunculus was almost as childish as the children he supposedly hated.

"Thank you, Envy. I appreciate it."

* * *

Hughes returned home to find Gracia cooking dinner, smiling mischievously at him from over her shoulder.

He sighed adoringly and ambled over to her, pulling her into a warm embrace. "What wonderful thing did my wonderful wife do today?"

Gracia laughed. "Look in the living room."

Hughes raised an eyebrow and did as requested, walking through the familiar hall and eying each of the pictures he encountered as he went. He could hear his adorable Alicia chattering away with somebody, clearly enjoying herself.

"Mister Envy, hold still! I can't draw you this way!"

"All right, all right. Geez, you're a very demanding princess."

Hughes peered through the door to find Envy sitting beside his little girl, sitting comfortably with his legs folded, while Alicia scribbled determinedly on a scrap of notebook paper. Envy looked rather bored, but it was clear he was trying to fight back a smirk.

Alicia stopped scribbling and stared at Envy for a few seconds, then continued her drawing, humming as she worked. Envy turned his head toward Hughes and rolled his eyes, mouthing "save me".

Hughes simply chuckled and leaned against the doorframe, watching the show.

Finally Alicia cheered and held up her drawing for Envy to see. "Look, Mister Envy! I did it the best I could!"

Envy took it from her, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Not bad. You're going to be a great artist one day, princess."

Hughes couldn't resist.

"_Awwwww, _so the evil widdle Homunculus has a heart _after all_," he cooed, laughing as Alicia cried "Daddy!" and ran into his arms.

Clearly, Envy couldn't resist either.

"_Daddy!_" he squealed with over-exaggerated enthusiasm, running toward Hughes and enveloping him in a near-bone-crushing hug.

Alicia giggled and wrapped one arm around Envy's knee, saying "Mister Envy's funny!"

"Ha-ha," Hughes squeezed out, managing a shaky smile as Envy smiled nastily at him.

Worse still was that Envy's expression clearly said _I'm only playing along. I don't care about your family one iota. _

Hughes put on his best bland smile, hoping Envy understood the hidden reply of _Fine, then. I'll have my knives by my pillow at night. _

Envy's smile grew wider.

Envy looked down at Alicia. "I have to talk to your Daddy now. Hope you don't mind."

Alicia sighed and let go of Hughes and Envy. "Okay." She toddled out the door.

Hughes closed the door behind him. "By the way," he said casually, "If you hurt my daughter in any way, I will kill you."

"If it makes you feel any better, I just threw up a little in my mouth."

Hughes grinned. "Good for you, wise guy. So, what'd you want to talk to me about? Find any cute girls at school?"

Envy grinned back. "That's beside the point…currently." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Ponyboy wants to bring the Red Lotus Alchemist into his crazy family of sorts."

Hughes reeled back in surprise. "_Kimbley? _The _psycho?_"

Envy raised an eyebrow. "You know him?"

Hughes adjusted his glasses, feeling a headache coming on. "Kid, _everyone _knows Kimbley."

Envy chuckled. "Well, it seems that Ponyboy thinks that he might be of some use to his cause. I met him today, and…"

_Roy, what the hell have you done… _Hughes thought, feeling his headache grow stronger. "Any idea what Roy might want Kimbley for?"

Envy shrugged. "Hell if I know. Maybe he gets a thrill out of hanging out with psychos." His teeth were eerily sharp as he grinned. "It would explain a lot."

Hughes adjusted his glasses. "I doubt that. Maybe it's just for the creep factor…you know, sort of a subtle threat."

Envy laughed. "Kimbley isn't _subtle, _Hughes. He's got his trade tattooed on his _hands. _The only surprising rumor he'll hear when he walks down the street is 'What do _you _think those tattoos will do?'."

Hughes cleared his throat. "You obviously have a plan. Care to tell Roy and I about it?"

Envy cocked his head to one side. "Of course. But…" He leaned forward, eyes half-lidded. "You're going to have to trust me."

Hughes smirked. "That could be difficult."

Envy copied his gesture. "Oh, I'm sure you'll be able to by tomorrow. Just listen to my idea."

Hughes sighed. "All right, I'll get Roy on the line…after dinner. Gracia's making something special!" In an instant he was back to his usual, giddy, family-man self. The side of him everyone wanted—no, _needed_ to see to feel safe.

"I know," Envy said, his expression an equally-flawless, smiling mask. "It's part of our deal."

Hughes suddenly felt as though alliances were beginning to shift.

* * *

_The first player moves his knight forward, his expression cool._

"_Interesting choice," the second player says, moving his pawn forward. "Let's see how long your good luck lasts."_

"_And how deep your patience runs," the first player replies, drumming his fingers on the table._

_The pieces are moving._


	9. Chapter 9

I decided to check and see if any of the possible future events in this fic will make some of you squeamish. Luckily, the majority of you seemed fine with it, and so I shall continue forward. Hope you enjoy this chapter while I'm away for two weeks!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only the CMAI, and arguably Kimbley's childhood and the nursery rhymes herein. They're old enough to be in the public domain anyway.

Chapter Nine: In Which Things Get Rather Complicated

* * *

_The first player's knight moves into position, striking the second player's pawn—another minor battle won._

"_You know, there's something fun about taking prisoners," the first player comments, as the second player frowns._

"_How so?"_

_The first player grins wickedly. "There's nothing quite like a pretty bargaining chip."_

"_You're sick."_

"_I'm simply fond of entertainment. It's _you _who needs the therapy session."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

"Envy?"

"Mm?"

"Why are you walking with me to school?"

"Because this is the easiest way." Envy laughed loudly, making Winry jump. "What, you thought I was going to drag you down an alleyway or something?"

"That's not funny," Winry replied sharply, glaring up at him. "It's happened to girls before. And I know that you're not—"

"Trustworthy?" Envy finished for her, his expression condescending. "Winry, whether or not I'm 'trustworthy' is completely up to you." He began to leap from one cobblestone to the other, whistling to himself as he went.

Winry followed him, trying to take her mind off how he _still _wasn't abiding by the dress code (_Did he _paint _his pants on this morning?_) and the way he managed to anger her like only one person in the world had…

She was so lost in her thoughts that she accidentally bumped into him. She stepped back, but Envy knelt down ever-so-slightly to her height. He grinned, his teeth almost _too _white.

"Oh, and Winry?"

Winry blinked, clutching the strap of her bag protectively. "Yes?"

"I come from a…_refined _upbringing." Envy stood to his full height and turned around, continuing on his way. "Oh, and we're late."

Winry whipped out her wrench and nailed him in the head, yet again.

_Why the hell do I even bother taking you seriously? And why can't you stop speaking in half-answers, damn it?_

* * *

The school day passed with it's usual dull routine.

Winry continued working on her automail project for her Advanced Metalwork class, received an Outstanding in her Medic 101 class (she was to be moved to Medic 2 sometime in the near future), and avoided Envy in the hallways like the plague.

"Congrats on your 'O'," Envy whispered as he passed her in the hallway. "You must be _proud._"

Winry called "Think you can do _better_?" as he waved casually at her without turning around.

He didn't answer.

"This is incredible! I've never seen something this _descriptive _on what life was like then! Well _done_, Mr. Envy!"

Winry watched as Envy gave a short bow to the thin, gangly Professor. "Thanks, Professor. It was very hard work. I'm glad you liked it."

There was a faint mocking undertone to his words, faint enough that only a few members of the class (Winry included) seemed to hear it.

The class applauded when Envy went back to his seat, his expression smug. Winry had the urge to hit him. Again.

She could feel his glee at her irritation from the very top of the lecture hall where he sat.

* * *

Roy nearly spat out his coffee in shock. "Envy _played _with _your daughter?_"

"_Yep!_" Hughes said cheerfully on the other end of the line. Roy could hear him wriggling in his seat in his usual giddy way. "_You see? Alicia can make _anyone_ nice!_"

"He could have been pretending, you know," Roy said sternly, leaning back in his chair. "Who _knows _what he's done to families like yours in the past?"

"_Roy._" Hughes' voice suddenly turned serious. "_I know he doesn't really care about me or my family. I know that. According to him, he hates all humans. But if he _hates _us—and if my daughter annoys him_—why was he going out of his way to make my daughter and wife happy_? Think about that for a second._"

Roy huffed.

"_Weird, isn't it?_"

Roy scowled. "He's trying to gain our trust."

"_Exactly. But the question is…what'll he do when he _does _have us wrapped around his finger? That's what I plan to find out._"

"You mean…let him _win_?"

Hughes' laughter made the connection crackle. "_Ever heard of Stockholm Syndrome before?_"

Roy raised an eyebrow. His lips curled into a smirk. "You're a bastard, Hughes, you know that?"

"_So is Envy._ _We make the perfect team. Speaking of, do you think Envy's plan will work?_"

Roy shrugged. "Maybe he thinks it's worth a shot."

* * *

Kimbley sat in his cell, waiting for the mysterious Envy to arrive.

It had been a long time since he had waited impatiently for _anyone_. All throughout the day, he found his bare toes tapping impatiently, his humming growing increasingly agitated—even trying to brush his hair out of his eyes, attempting to blow the strands out of the way or shaking them aside. Had he been able to move his hands, he would have twiddled his thumbs.

He ate his meals with barely a passing thought—later he wouldn't even remember how he managed it, let alone if they tasted like anything in particular—and continued to wait—

impatiently.

Finally, at five in the evening, Kimbley became impatient enough that he began to run through what nursery rhymes he could remember as a child. Anything to keep his mind occupied.

A favorite of his was "For Want of a Nail"—mainly due to the carpenter who had lived next door as he was growing up. He was always banging away on something, driving the neighbors crazy. Kimbley would often run to the old carpenter's workshop and bellow:

_For want of a nail the shoe was lost_

_For want of a shoe the horse was lost_

_For want of a horse the rider was lost_

_For want of a rider the battle was lost_

_For want of a battle the kingdom was lost_

_And all for a want of a horseshoe nail. _

He would call out this rhyme at least three times before the carpenter would toss a horseshoe at him to keep him quiet.

Mr. and Mrs. Kimbley would often tell their little Zolf that "The man is just trying to work, so be a good boy and go play with the other children".

Little Zolf preferred collecting horseshoes and dropping them from the schoolhouse roof.

Kimbley was broken out of his fond reverie by a now-familiar voice singing out:

_There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile_

_He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked style_

_He bought a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse_

_And they all lived together in a little crooked house_

"Well hello," Kimbley called, as Envy stepped out of the shadows. "It took you long enough."

"Sorry," Envy replied, crouching down in front of the bars. "I had an admirer."

"Did you?" Kimbley laughed and leaned forward. "Was the admirer pretty?"

"Oh, _very_…for a human." Envy cocked his head to one side. "You haven't seen anything pretty in a long time, have you?"

Kimbley shook his head, attempting to keep his face straight. "No. Even my fellow _Arsenic and Old Lace _impersonators aren't very attractive to me now."

"That's too bad." Envy sighed dramatically, his expression the picture of pity. "You've been missing out on a lot."

"Mm…" Kimbley's eyes flicked to the doorway and back to Envy. "Well, you're here to play messenger boy to Mustang, right?"

There was a soft, barely-audible rustle of cloth from outside the door.

_Uh-oh. Looks like we have a voyeur. _

Envy didn't seem to notice, but then again, who could be sure?

"Yes." Envy leaned forward. "So, what's the verdict, Mr. Red Lotus?"

Kimbley grinned. "I'll play along. Do you think they'll let us work together?"

"We have to gain their trust first. Chances are they'll have figured it out by now." Envy shrugged. "Until then, I'll just have to pretend to be an annoying, centuries-old Homunculus trickster who's too attractive for humanity to handle."

Kimbley laughed. "Sounds like that's a favorite role of yours."

Envy laughed in return. "It's half of who I am." He put his hands on his hips. "And it's the one that confuses people the most."

"Not me," Kimbley replied.

Kimbley smiled as Envy said smoothly "Hold that thought" and in a flash was by the door, leaning against the doorframe.

"Hello, Winry. Are you enjoying our little chat?" Envy asked, all-but-dragging a young blonde-haired girl into view. "Though from where you were sitting, you probably weren't _hearing _so much as _seeing_."

The girl struggled, but Envy let her go, instead choosing to stand behind her.

She tried to go left, but Envy followed her.

She tried going right, and Envy was still one step ahead of her.

_I wish I had some wine, _Kimbley thought. _This looks very interesting._

Eventually, the girl simply turned around and took a _wrench _of all things out of the tool bag slung over her shoulder. She slammed Envy in the head with it, then his shoulder, and then—

Kimbley winced. _On second thought, maybe it's a good thing I'm behind bars._

The girl was intelligent—she didn't gloat, or look around, she simply _bolted._

However, it only took a minute for Envy to have her again, this time holding her with her wrists behind her back. He dug through her tool bag—something the girl clearly protested—and found a medium-sized coil of rope. With a grin, he proceeded to tie back her wrists and feet in a complicated series of knots that unsurprisingly looked more like a work of art than anything else.

"There." Envy stepped to one side, letting Kimbley take in his work. "How is it, Mr. Red Lotus?"

Kimbley let his lips curl slightly in acknowledgement. "She looks frightened."

"Does she?" Envy asked in a babying tone, his expression mocking. "Well, that's too bad."

The girl stared at them both with a determined look, but obviously was still quite terrified. There was something familiar about her…something that nagged at Kimbley's memory. He couldn't quite place her, but…

The girl licked her lips nervously. "If you kill me, you'll be found out. You won't be able to gain anyone's trust."

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "Are you concerned about us?"

The girl gave an unladylike snort. "You wish."

Envy knelt down beside her, his expression curious. "So…are you trying to save your own skin?"

The girl's smile was bitter. "There're still people out there I can help. I can't go dying now."

Kimbley was _very _impressed. "Envy, I think she might be better alive."

Envy grinned at him. "Exactly what I was thinking."

The girl's expression barely wavered.

* * *

_The second player frowns as his next pawn is taken only seconds after he moves it._

_ The first player grins. "Uh-oh."_

_ The pieces are moving._


	10. Chapter 10

**For the record:**

Readers, you know that the world is full of intricate relationships. Families, friends, co-workers, enemies, lovers—those are only a few strings in the web. Not all of the relationships we have are as loving and nice as we would like. Some of them are just plain _unhealthy_, both mentally and physically.

While I tend to _write _about particularly dark relationships, I definitely don't _endorse _them. I intend to give many relationships a good amount of importance. Will there be _nice _romance? Of course. Will there be mind games? Of course.

Technically speaking, this fic has far more genres than the summary shows. Drama, action-adventure, psychological thriller, humor, romance, angst—that's what this fic is dipping into. So if you aren't comfortable with any of this, all right, that's perfectly fine. I just wanted to give you fair warning.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot. _Fortuna Desperata _is also not mine—it is a Italian song made by an unknown composer during the Renaissance era.

Chapter Ten: In Which Things Begin To Take A Twisted Path

* * *

_The first player hums as he stares unblinkingly at the second player._

_ "What?" the second player asks, feeling a little uncomfortable._

_ "Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing," the first player replies with a laugh. "Just waiting."_

_ The second player moves his other pawn forward. "There. Now you can stop humming."_

_ The first player hums even louder, then begins to sing: _

Fortunata desperata,

Iniquia e maledicta, maledicta

Che de tal dona electa

La fama hai denegrata…

_The second player frowns. "Your move."_

_The first player continues the song again, his eyes never leaving the second player's gaze._

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

_They say that young girls have an irresistible attraction to "bad boys"—the kind of men parents never want their angels to bring home, the kind with confidence and the sexy grin and the charm that spears those little sugar-coated hearts, makes them overflow with something carnal._

_Winry Rockbell in her own way was no different._

_When she was younger, it had been Edward Elric that had first caught her eye. At the time, he was prone to calling her the "Weird Girl" but he also played with her when no one else would, with his brother Alphonse beside him at all times, like a constant shadow. They were rivals first (Ed _loved_ a challenge, and Winry was no different), friends second, and in a short matter of months almost like siblings, complete with the teasing and the hair pulling and "_Grannyyyy! Ed's saying mean things to meeee!_" _

_Al was kind—he gave her toys he had made through alchemy, dried her tears, and sat by her when she was sick. He was a very good friend, and Winry wouldn't trade him for anything._

_But then there was Ed, who claimed girls had cooties. Ed, who beat up other boys if they so much as looked at Winry in a demeaning way, and who would tease Winry mercilessly about her love of machinery in the same breath. _

_Ed and Al learned alchemy from their father, who eventually made them his assistants at seven and six years old respectively. Ed would brag about this fact for_ hours_, showing off his alchemy to Winry and the other girls at school. He would make paper birds, toy rabbits, crowns of flowers, and other things with dramatic flourishes of his paintbrushes or chalk. Winry was never quite as impressed as the other girls.  
_

_Then the Ishbal War arrived, and when Winry's parents were killed on the battlefield, the Military sent her a letter that told her of how terribly _sorry_ the Fuhrer was about her parents' death, how he hoped he could make it up to her._

_Tucked safely inside the envelope was a certificate of acceptance to CMAI, complete with which classes to take—all health and mechanic courses. The school year began on September 1__st__—only a few short weeks away. _

_Winry was to be taken care of by a Miss Hawkeye until she was able to live on her own. Her Granny didn't want her to go—she was only _seven_, after all—but the military had done _so much_ already…_

_That was the last time she saw the Elrics. She had no first and last kiss from either one of the boys, just twin expressions of sadness and a hint of betrayal. _

_Her first kiss was quite sloppily taken by a boy a grade ahead of her when she was twelve, after she had fixed his big brother's motorbike. They were "together" for a year, but eventually he dropped out of school and was never seen again. _

_You could say Winry had developed a fetish of sorts for "bad boys with hearts of gold". However, she had stopped "dating" after the Motorcycle Boy left, and left relationships to the books or radio shows she read or listened to. _

_And quite possibly, if not for the fact that Envy and the Kimbley person _terrified her_ at this moment, Winry's head might have been turned in their direction._

_But now was not the time._

* * *

Winry moved away from Envy's smug expression and toward the bars of Kimbley's cell.

"What use would _I _be to people like you?"

"Oh, entertainment value," Envy replied easily, reaching out, the tips of his baby-soft fingers barely brushing against her cheek.

Winry wanted to lash out at him, but the rope was too tight. "_Don't touch me._"

Envy smiled and drew away. His eyes flicked to somewhere behind her—Kimbley, she was sure—and then back to her. His hands rested on his knees, loose and non-threatening. Winry backed up a little more until she felt the hard cold iron bars against her back.

"So," Kimbley said smoothly, as though having girls tied up in front of him was daily fare, "what shall we do with her, Envy?"

Envy rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving her face. "Well, that depends. What does _she _want us to do?"

Winry knew the answer to _that _question. "I want you to let me go. I want you to take these ropes off me and let me out of here alive—if you want to get right down to it."

"And what will you do for _us _in return?" Kimbley asked. She could see a few long, black strands of hair floating just past her vision. "Equivalent Exchange, you know."

Winry smiled. "I'll keep your secret."

Envy raised an eyebrow. "Such a simple thing to say. But we need a reason for you not to tell. After all, just letting you go isn't going to give you proper…_incentive._"

Winry tensed, hoping he wasn't thinking what she thought he was thinking.

"Don't you _dare._"

Envy scowled. "Oh, for God's _sake, _girl, I _told you _already that rape isn't my _style. _While I have no problem with giving you a little 'lesson' in why eavesdropping is bad for your health, don't get your hopes up about any ravishing from me _or_…"

He stopped. His eyes lost their focus on Winry, and slid to Kimbley, then to the ropes binding her wrists and feet. His gaze moved to her face, her neck. Winry suddenly felt like she was naked.

Envy grinned.

"All right, then. Let's make a deal. We will let you go—and not do anything terrible to your precious self. You will keep our secret. And"—Envy lifted her chin with one long finger—"_you _will keep a journal."

Winry snorted. "And what's the point of _that?_"

Envy's grin remained. "You're a teenaged girl, aren't you? Girls your age keep diaries. In fact, I'm pretty sure you have one. But _this _diary is a little _different._"

Winry frowned. _I doubt this is going to be an innocent thing, _she thought, clenching her hands into fists.

"You get to write down the things you try not the think about. The things that keep you awake at night. The things that make you wake up in a cold sweat. _Your_ dirty secrets. Equivalent Exchange, you know."

"I don't _think _so, you bastard!" Winry growled, dearly wishing she was untied already.

"Winry," Envy said sweetly, his head cocked to one side, "what's a few little secrets instead of a dead body?"

"You said you wouldn't kill me."

"On the contrary Miss," Kimbley said with a chuckle behind her, making her jump. "We said you would be _better _alive, not that we would_ keep_ you alive. And remember, we're still negotiating. Nothing has been completely decided."

As if to prove Kimbley's point, Envy's finger slid down to Winry's neck, sharp nail bared. "Not even _one _little entry?"

Winry gulped. "You're going to read it, of course."

"Of course. But it'll be _our _little secret. You human girls like baring your deepest desires to each other, don't you? Just think of it like that."

Winry suddenly hit upon an idea. "Okay…but you have to make a journal too."

Envy and Kimbley's laughter were eerily similar.

"But Miss, we _live _our dirty little secrets. What would be the point?"

"We would 'bare our souls to each other'—like you want _me _to do for you."

Silence smothered the room. Winry bit her lip, waiting for the inevitable deadly blow.

Instead, she heard laughter from both sides.

"Oh, Winry, I think this may work out after all," Envy said, amusement filling his voice. "What about you, Kimbley?"

"I do believe you're right." Kimbley chuckled. "I never thought I would have such a welcome opportunity."

"Me neither," Envy commented as he stood up. "So, does everything suit Miss Rockbell's taste?" Winry winced at the mocking undercurrent in his voice.

"It's fine. I'll do as you say…but you guys have to keep _your _word, too."

Envy cocked his head to one side, his grin almost serene. "Of course."

Winry stared at him. "_Well?_"

"Move your hands apart, like you're stretching."

Winry did so, and the knots loosened easily under her hands. She tossed the rope aside and rubbed her wrists, waiting for the circulation to come back. Then she went to work on the rope around her ankles—which was also easily released.

"Ready to go?" Envy asked as she shakily stood up, her heart pounding.

"You didn't _have_ to tie me," she said softly, feeling a chill crawl up her back.

Envy simply smiled.

"Will you be coming to my appointment with the noose, Miss Winry?" Kimbley asked, his tone one of detached amusement.

"I'm sure everyone's going to come. You're kind of a celebrity…in a bad way." Winry didn't look at either of the men as she headed out the door. "See you tomorrow."

"Better work on that entry, Winry," Envy called sweetly. "After all, who _knows _what'll happen in your dreams tonight?"

Winry didn't look back.

She left the prison with relative ease—no one really cared about a CMAI student wandering the halls. After all, they were the future of Armestris.

She kept her expression calm, almost detached as she walked through the streets of Central to her apartment. She fumbled for her key only slightly before unlocking her door and walking into the comfort of her apartment.

She took off her shoes and walked over to the bathroom, humming a cheery tune as her feet sank into the soft blue carpet that lined the living room. The place smelled faintly dusty—she would clean it some other time.

She brushed her feet against the age-softened wood floor of the bathroom as she looked in the mirror. Her hair didn't look too bad—a little messy, but that wasn't the end of the world.

Winry tugged her hair loose from its ponytail, watching the wavy strands align themselves against her neck and back. Her fingers ghosted over her cheek, where Envy had touched her.

She saw something wet glimmering in her eye. Then another.

"Stop…" she whispered as tears began to fall, one at a time, staining her white blouse.

* * *

"_You're a bastard," the second player accuses as the first player leans back comfortably in his chair, having just snatched a pawn._

"_You've already said that." The first player yawns and stretches, fingers splayed out, blocking out the overhead light. "Are you going to move?"_

"_What did you _think _I was going to do? Give up?" Frowning, the second player moves his knight forward. "Don't be stupid."_

_The first player grins. "It'd be unfortunate, wouldn't it, if you gave up?"_

"_I've been through worse."_

_The first player's grin grows wider. "Think so, do you? Well, perhaps _you _have…" _

_The pieces are moving._


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Eleven: In Which The Execution Day Is Resolved

* * *

_The first player eyes the knight, tapping his fingers against the board. _

"_That was fast," the second player remarks smoothly, running a hand through his hair. "Stuck, are you?"_

"_Of course not," the first player scoffs, taking his pawn and placing it in front of the knight—a challenge. "I'm just thinking things over."_

"_Sure you are."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

"…Sir. Sir, wake up."

"Mmmn…" Roy groaned as he rubbed his eyes blearily. A pair of reddish-brown eyes stared sternly into his. "…Lieutenant…?"

He blinked, trying to remember where he was. He wasn't at his apartment, that was certain—why would Hawkeye be _there, _anyway?—and he wasn't at his office. Books were stacked in piles beside him on a small coffee table, and one was even resting on his stomach. He was stretched out on a leather couch, legs folded against the southern armrest, head resting on the other armrest. His arm dangled limply against the couch, half-grasping nothing in particular.

It was a familiar position.

_I'm at the library, then. Damn, I should have checked the time before dozing off… _Roy sighed as he looked down at his clothes. _I'm in uniform, at least. _

"You should have gone home instead of sleeping here," Hawkeye admonished, looking around the library with careful precision, taking in every detail. "What were you looking for anyway, sir?"

Roy yawned and sat up, scratching his head. "I was trying to find historical references to what Envy's planning."

"Did you find anything?" Hawkeye picked up one of the books and looked at the dusty red leather binding, flipping through it briefly before putting it back.

"Only a paragraph—almost near the end of one of these books." Roy gestured helplessly toward the huge pile. "A male patient in an insane asylum was going to be executed for the crime of adultery, but a 'dark-haired man of eighteen years' saved him with the same method we're going to use. That was in 1714. Apparently the man wed a wealthy widow and died young."

Hawkeye frowned. "I see." She sighed. "It's not like we have much choice. It seems that his idea benefits all of us. What sane person would back down from that?"

Roy smirked. "You."

Hawkeye offered him a smile. "True. I find this method more than a little risky, but it's better than simply breaking into the prison."

Roy yawned and stretched. "So, when's the execution?"

Hawkeye checked her watch. "We have fifteen minutes."

"Good."

* * *

"Mr. Envy!" Alicia called, banging loudly on Envy's door. "You're gonna be _laaate!_"

"I _knooow!_" Mr. Envy's loud reply was muffled slightly from behind the door. Alicia ran back to the kitchen as she heard drawers being opened and shut, and the strangely metallic tang of alchemy.

Her little feet slapped against the wood floor as she ran, calling "Mommy! Daddy! Mr. Envy's up!"

Her Daddy smiled at her as soon as she entered the kitchen, scooping her up and whirling her around. "That's my girl! You did a good job!" he cried cheerfully.

Alicia couldn't help but shriek with laughter.

Mr. Envy walked into the room at that moment, still looking sleepy. The buttons of his uniform were still loose at his stomach, and Alicia couldn't figure out why. It wasn't _too _hot inside (summer was coming), and if he went outside that exposed area would get sunburned. Mr. Envy said he didn't like getting hurt, so why did he do things that would make him get hurt?

Alicia thought long and hard about that. Mr. Envy sat at the table and began eating his omelet quickly, his eyes still sleepy.

Alicia reached out and tugged softly on his strange, long green hair. It felt silky, like Mommy's hair.

"Mr. Envy?"

Mr. Envy looked down at her. "Yeah?" He yawned, showing off a very sharp and white set of tiny teeth.

"Are you…a masterchist?" Alicia blinked in surprise as her Mommy giggled from behind her hand.

"Come again?" Mr. Envy looked confused for a moment. He frowned a little. "How do—"

Daddy cleared his throat. "_Envy._"

Mr. Envy quickly got up and headed for the door, grabbing his bag along the way. "Sorry, princess, but I've got to get going. Your father and I have work to do!"

"Have fun!" Alicia called, as her Daddy looked at her with worry in his eyes.

"Alicia…who told you about 'masochism'?"

_I thought grown-ups knew everything… _she thought with a world-weary sigh. _Guess not._

* * *

Winry sat in the breakfast hall (she hadn't eaten), suddenly wishing she could crawl into a hole and die.

"Did you get the entry done?" Envy asked, one leg crossed over the other. One of his shoelaces was coming undone, tickling her ankle.

"Yeah," she said softly, handing him a simple black notebook with a steel-ring binding. "It's right in the front."

Envy practically purred in approval as he handed Winry a green velvet-lined book with a black ribbon as a bookmark. "Same here."

"The deal—"

"—Is still on, yes. Don't worry, it's not like I'm going to read it out _loud_…as long as you don't read _mine _out loud, that is."

Winry nodded. "Right."

Envy opened her journal, resting one hand against his cheek. His violet eyes grew a little glazed, and a small smile spread across his lips.

_I don't know if I should be worried or not, _Winry thought nervously.

Winry fell silent as she began to read Envy's entry, subconsciously tapping her foot against the floor. It was written in a sort of unique calligraphy, which made it slightly difficult to read at first.

_To Miss R., _

_I have many dirty secrets. Too many to choose from, you could say. I figure it'd be best to start things slowly. _

_So. Here is my first secret: every other night, I remember something from when I was a human boy. (I don't dream, you see.)_

_I remember a white wall. There's nothing really _special _about this wall—there's no cracks or peeled paint or pictures or anything like that. It's just…_white. _I can't see anything else save for that wall. Maybe it's the only thing in the room, besides me._

_There's a strange, almost ticklish feeling in my hands—as though I've done something to them. _

_As soon as I reach out and touch it—with my pathetic little boy hands—I make a red handprint. It's a weird, sudden contrast, and it excites my boy-mind so much that I do it again. And again. Soon the wall is covered with blood-red handprints, and it's the prettiest picture in the world. _

_E. _

Winry closed the journal as Envy handed hers back. "That's…"

"Scary?" Envy took his journal back, his expression faintly amused.

"A little." Winry carefully placed her journal in her bag. "What'd you think of mine?"

Envy chuckled. "It was—" He glanced around as the other kids got up and headed toward the doors. "Oh. Looks like it's time for Kimbley's execution."

Before Winry could ask him to answer her question, he vanished into the crowd.

* * *

"…_For want of a horse the rider was lost…_" Kimbley sang merrily at the top of his lungs as he was escorted to the gallows.

"Will you shut _up_?" one of his guards snarled, barely audible over the rattling of Kimbley's chains.

"Oh, but sir, look at what a fine _day _this is!" Kimbley exclaimed, as he threw his head back to look at the sun. "I haven't felt the sun on my skin for years, after all. Let me have a little fun before my time is up, why don't you?"

He could hear the crowd already, screeching and booing and cursing him as he marched up the old rickety stairs to the noose. He turned to face the crowd, gracing them with a polite smile as he did so. He saw the Winry girl in the crowd, but no sign of Envy.

But he could see Mustang perfectly clear, and his subordinates beside him. They looked just as stern as the other officers, barely even blinking.

The crowd pressed closer, the elderly, adults and children coming together for one single, unified purpose—to witness his death.

Kimbley smiled at them, waiting patiently for the noose to fall over his neck. Envy would arrive at that time, he was sure.

The noose slipped over his neck, scratching harshly against him, prickly and remorseless.

_Any time would be wonderful, Envy… _Kimbley thought, suddenly realizing that Envy could have lied.

The noose tightened. Kimbley felt beads of sweat roll down the back of his neck.

Mustang didn't look any better. Kimbley could see that he was standing a little stiffer than necessary. Possibly he even looked paler than usual (not that Kimbley was any better). It would be almost funny if not for the fact that death was imminent.

Kimbley's vision swam as he slowly shifted his feet.

So much for a golden opportunity.

At least his life didn't flash before his eyes. He had always hated people who claimed they saw such a phenomenon, and were lucky enough to have survived. It was foolish to think about such things.

_I never should have trusted that—that—_

"Sorry I'm late. How're you holding up?" a voice whispered.

Kimbley let out an undignified gurgle.

"Hold that thought." The rope was cut. "There. Feeling any better?"

Kimbley gasped for breath, unable to speak. His vision slowly returned, and he could see that the crowd was staring silently at him and Envy. Winry in particular looked dumbstruck. It was cute, really, seeing her pretty blue eyes so dramatically wide…

"It's all yours, Colonel," Envy called, standing to one side, his cold hand on Kimbley's shoulder.

"Citizens of Central," Mustang declared, stepping in front of Kimbley. "I, Colonel Roy Mustang, stand before you in defense of one Zolf J. Kimbley, aka the Red Lotus Alchemist."

The crowd began to mutter amongst themselves—and his subordinates were coming closer, lining up in front of the platform, ready for action.

"Look at this man."

Mustang stepped aside to give the crowd a look at him again, and Kimbley gave them all a level stare. "He is thin, haggard, and obviously _weak._"

Kimbley stared out at the crowd, betraying nothing. _I would have used a better choice of words, but…_

From behind, Mustang looked quite heroic and intimidating. Kimbley was sure he looked even more so from the front. He certainly had grown into his uniform.

"He has killed many innocents during the war. But so did I—and many other State Alchemists. Each of us have repaid our debt to humanity in various ways—and believe it or not, Kimbley has too. He has spent several years in prison, unable to see the light of day, alone, with his sins. Facing who he is—and why."

Mustang turned to face Kimbley, his eyes dark, betraying nothing. Kimbley had to admire his acting skills.

"Have you seen your inner demon, Kimbley?"

Kimbley grinned and shrugged. "Many times."

Mustang's eyes flickered slightly. "And do you repent your sins?"

_Which ones? _Kimbley almost asked, before instead replying "I want to live, Colonel. I want…"

The crowd seemed to hold their breath. Kimbley even felt Envy tense a little.

"…I want to repay my debt." _All right, so that's a little dramatic, but I already know what Mustang's going to do…_

Mustang turned to face the crowd, which was muttering again. Kimbley fidgeted uncomfortably, suddenly having second thoughts. He had a feeling Mustang still hated him for what he did in Ishbal. It was possible Mustang would just kill him—not that Kimbley would allow _that. _Still, the idea of getting his hopes dashed to bits was hardly _appealing. _

_I'd better be on my guard, then. _

"Under one condition," Mustang said, quiet but loud enough for the crowd to hear. "If you kill even _one _innocent, _anywhere at all_, you're dead. Understand?"

Kimbley paused for a few moments, then nodded, trying to keep his face straight. Winry stared at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Yes."

"I've written out a release form. The Fuhrer approves."

With that, Mustang turned and walked away, saying over his shoulder all too casually:

"You're free, Kimbley."

Kimbley slowly bowed formally to Mustang's retreating figure and followed Envy off the platform.

"Thank you, Colonel," he called, feeling the eyes of the crowd on him.

He didn't hear Mustang's reply over the rumble of the crowd. And Envy's triumphant laughter.

* * *

_The first player raises an eyebrow as yet another pawn is taken._

_ The second player leans back smugly, chuckling under his breath._

"_Oh, my, aren't _we _cocky." The first player's fingers rest on his own knight, encircling the horse's neck. "It's not exactly advisable to gloat, no matter how fun it is."_

"_I'm guessing you would know."_

_The first player grins. "Intimately. I still do it, though."_

"_I'll keep that in mind."_

_The pieces are moving._


	12. Chapter 12 We're Back!

Hallo!

**ANNOUNCEMENT:**…Well, it seems as though this fic is determined to be finished, judging by the many, many ideas pounding through my brain for the past few months. I gladly give in!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot and certain unnamed characters.

Chapter Twelve: In Which Kimbley Revels In His Newfound Freedom, and A Stupid Disruption Occurs

* * *

_The second player leans back, looking at the pieces. "Interesting."_

_The first player brushes his hair out of his eyes, blinking. "What is?"_

_ "It just occurred to me that this may wind up becoming a stalematel."_

_The first player rolls his eyes and taps the captured pieces on his side of the board. "We're both too stubborn to let _that _happen."_

_"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"_

_The first player grins. "It's whatever the hell you want it to be." He moves his knight forward, smiling at the sharp _clack _of wood on wood._

_ The pieces are moving._

_

* * *

_

Envy followed Mustang and the rest of his men out of the square, with Kimbley beside him. The sun shone brightly on his greasy-pale skin, and his prison clothes dragged behind him on the cobblestones. Otherwise, though, he looked quite content.

"Major Kimbley." Mustang looked at him over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. "There are showers at HQ, if you feel the need. And perhaps a change of clothes."

"Thank you, Major—oh, sorry, it's Colonel now, isn't it?" Kimbley smiled a plastic smile. "I'd forgotten. You know, I think in some ways you'll always be an old war veteran to me. You _and_ your lieutenant."

Mustang and Hawkeye didn't answer.

_Looks like there's another nerve to exploit, _Envy thought, his mind already processing the information for a later taunt.

Envy cleared his throat. "Hey, Ponyboy, I'd like to show Kimbley here around, get him used to the outside world. How does that sound?"

Mustang didn't turn around. "_No massacres_."

"Right, right," Envy and Kimbley said simultaneously, grinning at each other.

"A shower first, though," Kimbley said, making a face. "I feel disgusting."

"And then what?" Envy asked, stepping lightly over a prominent cobblestone.

"Then…" Kimbley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I'll need a suit. I can't go walking around like this anymore. Maybe three suits, just in case. Blood is a pain to wash off."

"Good point." Envy grinned. "That's my kind of logic."

* * *

When the water first poured and hissed down onto Kimbley's back, he nearly yelped at the sharp, almost-burning, ice-on-the-unsuspecting-flesh feeling. In fact, it was a bit of a shock in more ways than one—he'd nearly forgotten what the four senses were, being hidden away and shackled in the dark for ten years…or was it eleven?

The water started to mellow out a little, become warmer, and Kimbley sighed with relief and leaned back into the spray, his lips curling into a grin.

_Wonderful, _Kimbley thought, grabbing the small bottle of shampoo (from what he could read on the tiny writing on the label) and scrubbing the grime and grease out of his hair. _Absolutely wonderful._

With every layer of grease he cleaned away, Kimbley felt more human—as "human" as a sociopath of his caliber could be. Yes, he had read the textbooks, listened to the therapists; he knew the ins and outs of his diagnosis (_Though I _may _need to check for any new findings, _he reminded himself with a small chuckle).

He knew that "a monster like him"—to quote his prison shrink—would never fit into the usual round holes with his square peg, but did that _really _matter? Particularly when he now had a new Homunculus…_companion_…and an interesting young lady close at hand.

After a few more minutes of scrubbing and rinsing and feeling better with every moment, Kimbley reluctantly decided enough was enough. With a quick flick of his wrist the shower squeaked to a halt. He stepped out of the shower, quickly wrapping a green-and-white towel around his hips.

He looked at his prison clothes lying pathetically in a stinking pile. "Now what should I do with these?" he asked no one in particular.

"With what?" Envy asked from behind him, his footsteps barely audible on the slippery floor tiles. "Oh. _That _crap."

Kimbley turned to look at him, holding the towel around his waist as securely as possible.

Envy blinked and looked him over briefly, an amused look slowly coming into focus on his face. "And here I thought you'd be used to public showers by this point."

Kimbley ignored the obvious jab and held out his free hand. "My clothes?"

"Oh, yeah." Envy disappeared for a moment, then returned and handed them over. He turned on his heel to give Kimbley some privacy. "They classy enough for you?"

"A gentleman can make any look attractive if he carries himself properly."

"That sounds like something for a play."

"Thank you."

"Hmm…" Envy scratched his neck. "So a 'gentleman' could pull off the underpants-with-the- Armestris-flag-in-front-of-their-crotch?"

Kimbley looked at the boxers with distaste, then pulled them on anyway. "Well, I doubt anybody's going to see them."

Envy didn't answer.

Kimbley dressed as quickly as possible, humming softly to himself as Envy's foot tapped impatiently on the tiles. Just as Kimbley buttoned the last button on his white shirt, Envy took the prison clothes and tore them into strips, the _rrrripp_ing noise echoing in the room.

"What are you doing?" Kimbley asked.

Envy turned and held out the strips, a pleased look on his face. "Gags. Bindings. Nooses. I'll found a use for them."

"Good." Kimbley smiled. "Well, then. Shall we go?"

* * *

Kimbley stared at himself in the mirror of the tailor shop. Certainly, he needed to gain a few pounds, but otherwise he looked like a functioning member of society.

It felt good to wear a suit again, to feel the soft layers of cotton against his skin, crisp and neat.

"Can I see?" Envy asked from outside, his voice muffled.

Kimbley opened the door and stepped out. "Well?"

Envy leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised. "You look good in a suit. Particularly that one."

"Thank you." Kimbley smiled. "But…?"

Envy pulled a white hat seemingly from out of nowhere, grinning. "…But a hat could complete the look."

Kimbley took it and placed it on his head. "Thank you again. I think this will work just fine."

The shop door's bells made a shrill _ding-a-ring-ring_ as the door opened and then closed with a solid _clunk._ A group of people—men, judging by the voices—were peering over the racks and muttering darkly to themselves. Envy turned to look at them. Kimbley could see the pulse on his pale neck ticking—and not out of fear.

One of the men—a skinny, black-clothed fellow with a glassy look in his eye—caught sight of them and moved closer, a pistol pointed at Envy.

"Envy the Homunculus," the man said in a deep, droning voice, "we have been contracted to kill you, and anyone who chooses to interfere with your execution."

Envy looked back at Kimbley, then back at the man. "Who would bother to kill someone who can't be killed? Sounds stupid to me. And who, exactly, asked you to undertake a suicide mission?"

The man pulled the trigger three times. Envy lurched forward before the loud retortseven registered. Kimbley automatically stepped forward—and found that Envy was grinning, a hand over his chest where the bullets had entered. He breathed out, and three bullets dropped out with a sickening _pop_ and _squelch._ The wound in his chest suddenly glowed with a blue, electric crackle, and slowly disappeared.

"…_Well_, now," Envy said, calmly licking the blood off his fingers. "Did you expect _that_?"

The man yelled to his companions—"_Fire!_"

Kimbley instinctively grabbed Envy by the scruff of the neck and dove to the ground as bullets whizzed past them.

"I don't need to be protected, y'know." Envy's voice was muffled—he didn't seem to care that Kimbley's arm was pushing him into the carpet.

"I know." Kimbley grinned. "So, shall we start our retaliation?"

Envy laughed and sat up, a dark look in his eye that was quite inviting. "Sure."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only the assassins.

Chapter Thirteen: In Which There Is Unconventional Use of Clothing Racks, Buttons, Ties, Etc.

* * *

_"You're not stuck again, are you?_" _the first player asks, a condescending tone to his voice._

"_No, not at all." The second player takes his opponent's knight with his own. "I was just creating a plan of action."_

_The first player looks over the board, long fingers drumming on the table. "I see. So you're not just cocky, you're resourceful too." _

_The second player permits himself a smile. _

_The first player laughs. "I'll _really _have to keep my eye on you, then."_

_The pieces are moving._

_

* * *

_

It'd been a while since Envy was in a fight against somebody who actually planned on _killing _him. It felt _good_—and the fun hadn't even started yet. Having somebody just as starved for action as he was at his side helped.

The man who shot him—the Idiot Assassin—blinked in confusion, as he tried to wrap his brain around why his bullets were on the floor at his feet and not smoking through Envy's flesh. But Envy didn't give him time to think things through.

To be precise, the Idiot Assassin was:

Kneed in the stomach.

And shoved into a clothing rack.

He let out a sharp, brittle exhale.

Envy stalked toward his fallen victim. To his pleasant surprise, he saw a metal projection of the clothing rack had provided the finishing blow for him, skewering his foe.

The cashier behind the desk at the front of the store looked horrified.

The other would-be assassins drew their guns and fired. Healing ability or no, those bullets _hurt_. Searing, burning pain everywhere. The three or four lives he'd stored up faded away, his heart fluttering, a hummingbird on its last legs. The world turned dark to light and back again.

However, Envy wasn't _that _easy to kill—at least, not at the moment. The bullets squelched out of him as he healed—just in time to watch Kimbley join in the fun.

The assassins—out of bullets, judging by the useless _click-click-click_—put away their guns and decided to rush him.

Envy expected Kimbley to activate the transmutation tattoos on his hands. He thought Kimbley would grab the nearest man, and turn him into a walking explosive. It seemed the most obvious tactic—after all, his nickname was "Mad Bomber Kimbley".

However, Kimbley went for a different approach. A woven basket filled with buttons lay innocently on the table near the changing room. Kimbley scooped up a handful, closing his fist around them.

The sharp bitter tang of alchemy filled the air. Envy felt his body tense up.

Kimbley's jaunty hum pierced the silence of the room.

He flicked his wrist, and the buttons flew through the air at two of the men—and exploded on contact.

The blood and screams were _wonderful, _if a little more garbled than usual—having good-sized holes in your chest can do that to you. The two men fell over, eyes clouded over with death.

The remaining assassins surrounded Kimbley, fists and legs slamming into him.

They were so occupied with beating Kimbley to a pulp, they didn't notice Envy approaching one of them from behind and wrapping a tie around his neck. And gave a swift tug.

Envy grinned as the human slumped to the side, knocking another over into the next.

Kimbley—sporting one hell of a black eye—was busy fending off the attacks. Two foes would drop, but two more would take their place.

_That's not good, _Envy thought, just as the rest of the group noticed Envy's arrival.

Meaty hands reached out and grabbed him by the hair—he gasped as several strands ripped from his skull—and he was thrown into Kimbley, sending them both crashing to the ground.

Kimbley got up first, pulling Envy up by the arm. "You alright?"

"What about _you?_" Envy asked, just as the assassins swarmed toward them.

Kimbley smiled and adjusted his hat. "This is taking too long."

"Agreed." Envy grinned.

They turned to face the enemy, side by side. Kimbley started humming again, and Envy joined in, adrenaline pumping.

_This is going to be _so _much fun._

_

* * *

_

Roy scribbled his signature on yet another official document, bored out of his mind.

The sun was shining brightly through the window. Birds were cooing to each other in the trees and on the rooftops. The ladies of Central were out and about or cloistered in their gardens, chatting, shopping, being courted. In contrast, some of the ladies practiced weaponry or alchemy.

And where was Roy, the lover of Central's ladies?

Inside doing paperwork.

At least he had his team with him, sharing the load.

"Your help is greatly appreciated, everyone," Roy said with a thankful smile.

Hawkeye peered over her large pile of paperwork to stare coolly at him. "We're still doing most of the work, sir."

The rest of his men nodded, looking tired.

Roy chuckled good-naturedly. "Now, come on, men! Have my orders ever been selfish?"

"_Yes,_" came the unanimous reply.

Master Sergent Fuery peered over his glasses nervously at Roy, but made no comment

Just as Roy was about to argue in his defense, Envy and Kimbley burst into the room, huge toothy grins on their faces. They were dragging something—or someone—behind them.

Roy straightened in his seat, looking over Kimbley's surprisingly neat appearance, save for the purple bruise over his left eye and, judging by his walking, bruises elsewhere. His white suit, however, was crisp and neat. Despite the injuries, he seemed in good spirits.

Envy didn't have a scratch on him. He strolled to the front of Roy's desk, dragging the victim by the arm. Roy was reminded oddly of a kid with a stuffed animal.

"_So,_" Envy said, hauling the person up by the scruff of the neck. "This guy and his band of idiots tried to kill me. Somebody put them up to the idea."

"And it wasn't a massacre," Kimbley added, smiling. "_They _started it."

Envy laughed.

"I'm assuming it was a group, then." Roy frowned. "How many were there?"

"Only fifteen, counting this guy." Envy pointed to his victim.

Havoc leaned back in his chair, cigarette dangling from his mouth. "But why were _you_ attacked? Because you were with _him_?" He pointed to Envy.

"Presumably." Kimbley nodded. "I suppose whoever's behind this doesn't appreciate Envy's charms."

Envy batted his eyelashes mockingly. "Oh, _you_…"

"What does this have to do with me?" Roy asked, tapping his pen against the desk.

Envy laughed. "I'm starting to think you didn't get that rank for your _brains_, Colonel Ponyboy."

_That stupid nickname again…_ Roy rubbed his temples and sighed. "I want to know what your theories are first—I know there are many choices, but who would _really _want to kill you?"

Envy tapped a finger to his lips, looking innocently toward the ceiling. "Well, let's see…there's my ex-master…the Fuehrer, _maybe_…oh, and Greed."

"Greed?" Roy leaned forward in his seat. "Another Homunculus?"

Envy nodded, a scowl slithering onto his face. "He left the master on his own. He _was _sealed away, but some idiot unlocked his bindings two months ago. So now he's out."

Kimbley looked at him. "But you don't think it's him?"

Envy shrugged. "It may _not_ be him, but it could be. We hate each other, but he wouldn't go through all that trouble just to get to me. So maybe it's my ex-master after all…"

The man groaned and began to move. Envy tightened his hold on the man's arm and looked at Roy.

"You have a spare room? I'm going ask him a few questions."

Roy thought for a moment. "…Fine. There's a large closet down the hall. But I need to hear the answers he gives you. After all, you're _my _subordinate. My responsibility, God help me."

Envy's smile was sickeningly sweet. "Of _course_, Ponyboy. How could I forget?"

* * *

_The first player moves his pawn forward, approaching his opponent's knight. _

"_A little risky, I'd say." The second player reaches out and takes the pawn with his bishop, a smirk on his face._

_ The first player shrugs and leans back, still looking confident. "True. But worth it in the end."_

_ The pieces are moving._


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only this plot.

Chapter Fourteen: In Which Envy Makes A List

* * *

_The first player's pawn advances diagonally and tips his opponent's pawn. It _clacks_ against the wooden board. _

_The second player shakes his head. _

"_The thought of you winning is a disturbing prospect."_

"_Because you hate losing?" _

_The first player grins._

_The pieces are moving._

_

* * *

_

Roy and his subordinates stood by the closet door, checking every so often for anyone walking down the hall. To Envy's "credit", the victim didn't scream in agony—but the pitiful whimpers were disturbing enough.

Roy could hear Envy talking softly to his victim, coaxing him gently. Silence. Then the whimpers began again.

Breda leaned over to Roy and whispered "…He's on _our _side, right?"

Roy shrugged. "He hasn't killed any of us yet, so yes, I'd say he is."

But Roy had his doubts, of course. It was quite obvious that Envy was trying to gain his trust for some reason. But it was equally obvious that Envy was enjoying himself. He had that way about him—like someone who finally has something to do, something to keep him _interested_.

Kimbley chuckled from his place at the opposite wall. "I think you're right, Colonel. From my interactions with him so far, I'd say Envy is as much on your side as will benefit him. And myself, of course."

Roy frowned. "It's all about what benefits who at the end of the day, huh?"

"Perhaps._ I_ would certainly agree with that philosophy." Kimbley smiled and looked toward the slowly opening door. "Oh, looks like he's done already."

Envy stepped out and closed the closet door behind him with his foot. His expression was unreadable as he looked around the hallway, his hands stiff at his sides.

"Let's go back in your office, Ponyboy," Envy said coolly. "You never know who could be listening."

"What about your victim?" Roy pointed to the closet.

Envy offered up a cruel smile. "Every closet has skeletons."

They all went back inside, Hawkeye shutting the door behind her.

"So what's the verdict?" Roy asked.

Envy sighed. "Well, there's two options open now: Greed or my ex-master. That 'skeleton' I chatted with said his orders came from Dublith."

Roy folded his arms across his chest. "Sadly, we're not mind readers, Envy. Could you expand on that?"

For the first time, Envy looked uncomfortable. Not scared, but with the air of a kid about to own up to stealing cookies when no one was looking. He was quiet for a few moments, the gears clearly turning and churning in his head. He rocked back and forth on his heels, eyes half-closed in thought.

Finally, he spoke.

"…My ex-master lives near Dublith. And in the past, Dublith was Greed's stomping grounds." Envy scratched his head, looking irritated. "So there's _still_ no clear choice."

"I have a suggestion, Mr. Envy," Falman said, his expression serious as always.

Envy looked intrigued. "Fire away."

"Maybe making a list of why those two possibilities are open, to sort them out?"

Envy hesitated, then grinned. "Not bad, not bad. Any paper handy? Oh, and a pen."

"Right here," Hawkeye said.

Envy looked around at the group, his eyes focusing on Roy. "My, my. Aren't _you _helpful little workers today. Have I been good or something?"

"Well, you _did _get me out of a hanging," Kimbley said, smiling. "I'd certainly count that as something to reward."

_Of _course _you would, _Roy thought, as Envy hummed and went to work.

A few minutes later Envy leaned back in his chair, twirling the pen lazily in his hand. "I think this sums it up."

Roy looked over to investigate—and found himself faced with unique calligraphy. The crossed "T's" extended almost to the end of their word, the "w's" looked more like "u's", but otherwise it was readable.

The others crowded around.

Roy read aloud, while Envy sat with a thoughtful look on his face:

_**Why Kill Envy?**_

_**-I may have been replaced. (Loose cannon?)**_

_**-I may somehow be in the way of a new scheme.**_

_**-Revenge**_

Envy nodded. "I guess we'll have to wait until someone else tries to attack me." He grinned. "This could be _fun._"

Even the usually-unflappable Falman looked a little uncomfortable with Envy's reaction.

"Fun for you, at least." Roy put the list on his desk. "I want to hear about anything you find suspicious, or if anyone attacks you again."

Envy gave him a lazy salute and stood up. "Right, right. Is that it, Ponyboy?"

Roy noticed that Envy looked a little on edge, as if anxious to leave.

"There's something else, isn't there."

Envy shook his head.

Roy nodded. "You're dismissed."

Envy began to saunter out the door, but turned on his heel and looked at Kimbley, then at Roy.

"…Where's Kimbley staying, anyway?"

Kimbley made a little noise of agreement. "I was wondering about that. Am I a State Alchemist again, or something else entirely?"

Roy consulted his papers. "It says here…that you still have your State Alchemist certification. Congratulations."

Kimbley's eyebrows rose. "Looks like you've improved on your biting wit over the years. Lovely."

"There're plenty of empty apartments around, if you're interested Major," Hawkeye quickly interjected.

Kimbley smiled at Hawkeye—more of a "Nicely diverted, Miss" look than anything—before looking at Envy. "Where are you located, Envy?"

"Mayflower Street. I'm rooming with Hughes and his family."

Kimbley nodded. "Mayflower Street…that's near the market and the National Library, if I remember correctly."

"That's right," Roy said. _How could he have remembered that after being locked up for so long?_

"Hmmm…well, that seems perfect. Does anyone know if there any available apartments there?"

While Hawkeye coolly informed Kimbley of the available rooms from the last time she visited the Hughes family, Roy sat at his desk, turning over the new developments over in his mind.

_Is Envy really being targeted? Or is this just another way to gain our trust? _His mind flashed to the person in the closet. _On second thought, I'm more worried for whoever's targeting him. This could get messy._

Someone cleared their throat, and Roy shook himself out of his reverie.

"It looks like I have a new place to stay," Kimbley said with a smile. "Is there anything you require from me before I go, Colonel?"

"Not yet. Dismissed, soldier."

Kimbley bowed elegantly and turned to walk out with Envy. Roy listened to their chatting and laughing for a moment before returning to his paperwork.

* * *

_The second player's bishop moves to threaten the offending pawn. _

"_Well, well," the first player says thoughtfully, resting his hands on the table. "Getting a little more offensive, I see."_

"_Better late than never." The second player takes his hand away, looking at the first player challengingly._

_The first player laughs. "Oh, you have _no _idea."_

_The pieces are moving._


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, or the classic song "Melancholy Baby" by George A. Norton.

Chapter Fifteen: In Which There Is Unexpected Cheer

* * *

_The first player runs his fingers over his remaining pieces, lost in thought. _

_The second player doesn't say anything—he simply sits and watches as the first player makes his choice._

_The first player's white rook bears forward, taking out the black rook with blunt finesse. _

_The pieces are moving._

_

* * *

_

Winry turned the radio up another notch as she continued sketching out a second blueprint for a new automail design.

_This has to be _perfect_ for the final exam_, she thought to herself, carefully outlining the skeletal frame. _If it's anything below an 'Outstanding', I'll have to repeat the whole year!_

This was her last year at CMAI. In a few weeks, all the upper-classmen had to turn in a final project demonstrating what they learned over their ten years at the Institute. Propaganda, weaponry, strategies, engineering, archiving, and many more options—all were to be showcased before the Military Brass for what was affectionately known as "Hell Week".

After that week was over, you either received your Associates degree and found yourself assigned to a military officer's team or branch, or you failed the project and started over.

_I've worked too hard to have that happen, _Winry thought, making notes on which wires she would need.

Her little workshop was becoming cramped—wires and gears and tools were beginning to flow out of their respective boxes and onto the floor. Books on automail, surgery, and general engineering were taking up a large portion of the room, and growing larger. The radio was perched on a small shelf alongside wind-up toys from her childhood. They were cracked and chipped, but in otherwise tip-top shape from her constant tinkering.

A ragtime love song crooned in between the scratching sounds of her pencil. By the time the second chorus came about, she found herself humming along:

_Come to me, my melancholy baby, _

_Cuddle up and don't feel blue;_

_All your fears are foolish fancy, maybe. _

_You know, dear, that I'm in love with you. _

_Ev'ry cloud must have a silver lining, _

_Wait until the sun shines through, _

_Smile, my honey dear, while I kiss away each tear, _

_Or else I will be melancholy too._

Winry felt her heart sink, ironically—she remembered this song. Her parents would sing it to her whenever she came home sad for whatever reason, be it bullying or having scratched herself in the bracken when she went out playing with the other children of Risenbool. Somehow, her parents knew how to make anything better.

_No, don't think about that, _she told herself, while her hand trembled and let go of the pencil. _You don't have time to cry. You don't _need _to._

She took a deep breath and went back to work.

She lost herself in her own world of whirring bearings, crackling music and the smell of oil, as per usual—until someone knocked at the door. It was a solid, almost rhythmic _rap-rap-rap_ of a hand that knew when to be firm or casual.

"Be right there!" Winry called, turning down the radio and quickly walking to the front door, feeling her wrench and screwdrivers bounce against her hips in her tool apron pockets.

She could hear two people talking from behind the door. She peered through the peephole to check and see who it was.

"Good afternoon, Miss Rockbell." It was Kimbley. "Envy and I just dropped by to visit. May we come in?"

Winry didn't bother to ask how they figured out where she lived, and instead wondered whether to let them in or not. For the first time in a long time, she wished she still lived with Miss Hawkeye.

But then again, she at least knew how to use screwdrivers and wrenches in very uncomfortable places. And they had given their word not to harm her.

_But they could overpower me anyway, and use some loophole in our agreement. _Winry frowned.

"…Miss Rockbell? Is something wrong?"

Winry let out a small, awkward laugh. "Oh, it's nothing, nothing! Come in!" she said, unlocking the door.

Kimbley entered first, tipping his hat and holding it comfortably in his hand. Envy peered over Kimbley's shoulder, looking around as Winry closed the door behind them. Winry couldn't help but look Kimbley over—he cleaned up nicely, much to her surprise. The suit fit him a little _too _well.

"Nice place," Envy said, admiring the photos on the living room wall. "You live here alone." It wasn't a question.

"…Yes," Winry said.

Kimbley turned to her and smiled, holding up a paper bag. "I brought lunch, if you're interested."

Winry smiled back. "No, thanks. I've already eaten."

Kimbley's smile didn't fade. "As you wish, Miss Rockbell."

Envy seemed particularly interested in a photo on the mantelpiece—one that had been face down until he picked it up. "Hey, Winry, are these your parents?"

In the picture, her parents leaned over her, their hands on her shoulders. They were all smiling, hoping for a bright, happy future.

Winry didn't like to look at that picture very often, but she couldn't throw it away either, for obvious reasons. So she left it facedown and went about her day, learning the same trade as her parents, and hoping that she could be as capable as they were.

"That's right," Winry said, as Kimbley set his bag and hat on the coat hooks nearby. "They were killed during the Ishbal War."

"Oh." Envy didn't seem phased. "That's too bad."

"Indeed," Kimbley said, taking a look at the picture himself. "…Well, well. I know this picture."

"You do?" Envy incredulous, Winry surprised.

"Yes." Kimbley tapped the frame thoughtfully, frowning. "I was charged with protecting the Rockbell doctors, you see, back in Ishbal. Unfortunately, we arrived too late—they were already murdered. They were holding this exact picture when we found them."

He sighed. "I pride myself in my work—I always see a job through to the end. That _this _happened is…_disquieting._"

Winry looked at him and realized that this was his version of "I'm sorry for your loss".

"…Oh." Winry felt her nails digging into her palms. "I…see."

Kimbley looked down at her, suddenly smiling again. "They performed the job they loved to the very end. They believed what they did was right, and stuck by their convictions. I've always admired that."

Winry couldn't help but smile back.

"And judging by the books and tools lying around here, you're equally committed to your work. Am I right?"

"That's right."

"I'm glad." Kimbley adjusted the photo so that it stayed upright and stepped back, his head cocked to one side. "There we go. Now they can see your hard work paying off."

Winry's sadness flickered away. "Thank you, Mr. Kimbley."

"Hmm. You're welcome, Miss Rockbell."

Envy ruined the moment with an awkward cough. "Not that I don't _mind _a little sugary sweetness, but there _is _a point to us being here."

"Is it the journals?" Winry asked, back to business.

"Partially." Kimbley settled himself into a nearby chair, hands resting on his knees. "You see, Envy is being targeted by somebody. We took down a few thugs while purchasing this suit."

"Do you know why they attacked you? Was it money? What were they after?"

Envy grinned. "You're not _worried _about us, are you?"

Winry shook her head. "Of course not."

"Good, good. That'd be useless for all three of us. Anyway, things might get a little crazier than usual around here. Just keep on your toes and tell us if you see anything weird, okay?"

Envy smiled in a way that looked almost reassuring, if not for all the canines.

"And what'll _you_ be doing?" Winry asked, hands on her hips.

"Showing my would-be-murderers how to _really _kill somebody. Oh, and sticking around at CMAI until Ponyboy has something else for me to do."

"He means Colonel Mustang," Kimbley said with an amused look at Winry's confused expression.

"I see," Winry said.

* * *

_The second player stares off into the distance, thinking of his next move._

_The first player sits back and watches him, a confident smile slithering onto his face._

_The pieces are moving._


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only Max, Clyde and Jack.

Chapter Sixteen: In Which Alicia and Friends Send Out A Search Party

* * *

_The second player moves his second-to-last pawn forward, letting it enter the fray. _

_The first player says nothing. He sits and watches, his fingers tapping against the other pawns he captured. A warning, or a taunt?_

_The pieces are moving._

_

* * *

_

Alicia and her friends carefully looked around the quiet hall, looking up at the gold plaques.

"Jack lives way down here," Max said, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes and pointing forward. "I know. Mum showed me."

Alicia nodded, smiling at him. "Thanks, Max."

"What'll we do next, 'Licia?" Clyde asked, looking curious.

Alicia thought for a moment, tugging at the wrinkles in her dress.

They were going to play hide-and-go-seek at Max's house, since it was the biggest and with the most secret spots. But when they got there, Jack hadn't come yet. And he was _It_. They had decided on that yesterday, before it was time for supper and everyone had to go home. Jack had _promised _he would come and play.

And Jack neverforgot a promise.

"Hey, 'Licia?"

Alicia looked back at Max, who looked worried. "I'm okay. C'mon, let's go!"

The trio picked up their pace, running as fast as their growing legs could carry them. The red carpet squished under their feet. Alicia hoped any grow-ups who saw them running like this would understand how important this was.

Clyde and Max suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back, just as the door in front of her opened. She stumbled into them, leaving them in a giggling pile on the floor, staring at three pairs of legs.

"Mr. Envy! Winry!" Alicia cheered and got to her feet, brushing off her dress just as Max and Clyde got to their feet.

"Hi, Alicia!" Winry said, bending down to her height. "Are you three going somewhere?"

Alicia nodded. "Jack's missing. We're lookin' for him."

Mr. Envy frowned and crouched down beside her. "Where'd you see this Jack kid last?"

Max spoke up hesitantly. "Um…last night. He an' his Mum walked me to my 'partment."

"We're going to see his Mommy and Daddy," Alicia said.

"Good idea, little lady," the new person said, tipping his hat to her.

"Who're you?" Alicia asked, staring up and up at this tall man in white.

"I'm Zolf J. Kimbley. I'm a friend of Mr. Envy and Miss Rockbell. It's a pleasure to meet you." He had a very nice smile.

"Oh." Alicia smiled back and curtsied as her mother had taught her. "Nice to meet you!" She gestured toward her friends. "This is Max and Clyde. They're my friends."

"Pleased to meet you as well." Mr. Kimbley nodded politely.

Winry held out her hand. "Would you like me to come with you to find Jack?"

Alicia looked to Max and Clyde, who seemed fine with it. She took Winry's hand. "Okay. But what about Mr. Envy and Kimbley?"

"Unfortunately, we have business to attend to," Mr. Kimbley said. "But I wish you luck."

"Tell me if you find him, okay Alicia?" Mr. Envy grinned and straightened up, waving at Winry.

"Okay. Goodbye," Alicia replied, smiling and waving before taking Winry's hand and leading her down the hall. "This way, this way!"

"Alright," Winry said, as Max and Clyde followed dutifully behind them. "Let's see if we can find your friend!"

* * *

It didn't take long for them to find the right room.

Winry smiled as the children crowded around her legs, staring expectantly up at her. She rapped her knuckles against the oak wood door…and felt it give without any resistance.

_That's not right, _she thought, as the door creaked open with a groan. _There should be a lock in place._

Carefully, Winry stepped inside, the children right behind her. The light from the hallway illuminated the dark room, glinting on shards of broken teacups. Winry reached out for the lamp she could see just beyond the door, turning the squeaking handle and watching the bulb flicker into life.

"Don't step on the shards, kids," she warned, before looking around the room some more.

The rest of the room seemed completely normal—nothing was toppled over, there was no sign of a struggle save for the shards, and the window was locked. The grandfather clock still ticked and tocked, pendulum swinging. From what Winry could see, there was no food on the table, either.

"Hello?" Alicia called, Max and Clyde following her lead. "Jack! _Jaaaack!_"

_Tick-tock_, went the clock.

"I don't think Jack is here, Alicia. Or his parents." Winry took Alicia's hand and squeezed gently. "We should go tell someone."

Max pointed toward what looked like the bedroom. "What about in there?"

Clyde shook his head and pulled Max back. "_No. _Don't go there."

_Tick-tock._

"What's wrong?" Alicia asked, following Clyde's fearful gaze.

"Listen."

They listened, ears pricked for the slightest sound. All they could hear was their breathing, and the sound of the clock.

Winry felt a shiver crawl up her spine as she looked toward the darkened room. Somehow she knew there was something off about that room. About the entire apartment.

_Tick-tock_.

The children crowded behind her, their pudgy fingers curled into her tool apron.

_Tick-tock. Tick-tock._

Winry blinked and rubbed her eyes. _Did a shadow just…_move _in there?_

It must have been her imagination. There was nothing in this apartment except for her and the children.

And the shadows in the bedroom.

"Let's go," Winry said. "We have to tell someone."

The children nodded, eager to leave. Winry shut the door behind them as they quickly walked down the hall to the stairs.

They were only a few feet away when the door began to rattle.

_The first player continues to stare, calm and unblinking._

_The second player folds his arms over his chest protectively. "You're awfully unsettling all of a sudden."_

_The first player grins—but still says nothing._

_The pieces are moving._


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only the "shadow-thing".

Chapter Seventeen: In Which Envy Gets Another Job

* * *

_The first player decides to ignore the pawn, instead looking over the board for bigger fish._

_ The second player sits back and waits for the inevitable._

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Envy collapsed onto his bed, grinning like a fool.

He and Kimbley had parted ways at Kimbley's new apartment (number 333). From what Envy could see, the place had looked in need of furnishings, but he was sure that would be fixed later.

_It's too bad we didn't get a chance to look at each other's journals, though. _Envy sighed and rolled onto his stomach, legs kicking lazily in the air.

_This is a great day_, he thought, more than a little surprised by this fact. _And I've been through a lot of days._

Between finding a bird of a feather in Kimbley, a mystery of sorts to keep himself (and everyone else) occupied, and discovering another facet to his Winry toy, things were looking up.

_Hmm. I'm still being targeted, though—and maybe by Dante. That's irritating, but interesting._

He rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He took in the little details like the thunderbolt-shaped crack near the light bulb and the water stains here and there. For the most

part, the guest room was spare, save for a small shelf, a closet, a bedside table and a series of drawers for clothes. It looked nearly identical to Envy's room at Dante's mansion—spare and uninviting. "Spare and uninviting" did not apply to the Hughes family at all, however.

Envy sat up and looked around some more—_Why didn't I check this place out sooner? _he thought to himself.

He heard Alicia wailing from the kitchen. Curious, he left his room and followed the sound of Alicia crying and the sounds of her mother trying to comfort her.

He was pleasantly surprised to see Winry there, sipping a cup of tea and looking shaken. She barely acknowledged his presence when he entered the room.

"It's all right, dear, it was just your imagination…" Gracia rubbed Alicia's back soothingly.

"_No!_" Alicia shook her head, her pigtails trembling with her sobs. "It…it was _real_, Mommy!"

"What was real?" Envy asked, walking up to her. "Did something happen?"

Alicia explained between sniffles, tears contorting her face. Envy listened carefully, just letting her talk. It was interesting, seeing how analytical she already was in regards to strange occurrences. A possible investigative career was in the brat's future.

"There wasn't any sign of Jack or his parents in the apartment," Winry added.

Alicia nodded. "It was like they just…vanished. But there was _something _in the place."

Envy rested his hands on his knees, turning the information over in his head. "And there was just those broken plates and things, right?"

Winry nodded.

"I see," Envy said, sitting himself down in a chair. "So, did you two tell anyone?"

Alicia nodded. "We called Daddy on Winry's phone. He'll be home soon." She started trembling again. "…What if he gets hurt?"

Envy didn't know what to do—at the moment, he didn't particularly care, either. He was far more interested in this strange "shadow thing" that Alicia and Winry had come across.

Envy awkwardly reached out and patted Alicia on the back. "…He'll be fine."

"Envy's right, Alicia," Gracia said, smiling at them both. "Your father knows how to take care of himself. He's in the military, after all."

Envy felt a strange, almost uncomfortable flicker of familiarity at Gracia's warm expression. Before he could follow the feeling through, however, the phone rang.

Gracia quickly picked it up and pressed it to her ear. "Hello, Hughes residence…oh, hello, dear. How are things?" She paused. "…Yes, Envy's here…all right, I'll hand you over to him. Be careful. …All right, goodbye."

She handed the phone over to Envy.

"Hey," Envy said, listening to the strangely comforting crackle of the connection. "Find anything?"

"_We found the apartment,_" Hughes said, all business. "_The door's locked from the inside, but there's _something _moving around in there. And since you're in the 'strange happenings' business, I'd like you to come down and help out._"

"And what'll I get in return?"

Hughes' laughter made the connection fizz. "_How about a little more trust from me?_"

Envy chuckled. _Of _course _he'd use that. He knows that's what I want…but does he know _why_? _

Envy could hear Hughes adjusting the phone on the other end of the line. "_Well, Envy? How about it?_"

"Hmmm…sounds interesting. I'll be there."

"_Thanks._" With that, Hughes hung up.

Envy placed the phone back on the receiver and grinned at the three girls. "Looks like I'm joining the investigation. I'll say hello to the shadow-thing for you two!"

Winry laughed dryly. "You _really _don't have to do that."

"Be careful," Alicia called as Envy walked out the door.

* * *

_The first player's knight takes the dark bishop._

"_Hmmm…" The second player looks at his remaining pieces. "This is more difficult than I expected."_

"_Sorry to disappoint."_

_The pieces are moving._


	18. Chapter 18

Originally, Chapter Seventeen was much longer, but I decided to split it and post them in two parts. Here is part two!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only the "shadow-thing".

Chapter Eighteen: In Which Envy Helps Out

* * *

_The second player decides to retaliate. Knight against knight._

_The first player lets out a soft noise of surprise. "You're becoming blunt. That's an interesting attack choice."_

"_I'm not going to take _your _advice,_" _the second player says coldly, his knight scraping across the empty squares and hopping over another piece._

_The first player laughs, cold and calculated. "Of course not. I wasn't offering advice to begin with."_

_The pieces are moving._

"So," Envy said as he joined Hughes' team in front of the apartment. "What do you want me to do?"

"I think we can get the door open easy enough—but dealing with whatever's in there will be your job, Envy." Hughes laughed good-naturedly. "This sort of thing's a little too crazy for a normal guy like me!"

Envy looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "A 'normal guy', huh? I wouldn't call you that." He looked at the seemingly-innocent door. "But how _are _we going to get in?"

"Why, _break the door down,_ of course!" a voice boomed from behind Envy.

Envy whipped around to find himself face-to-stomach with a man who would fit perfectly in an opera—particularly if said opera needed a muscled, mustachioed baritone. His lone blond curl bobbed as the man bowed slightly.

"MAJOR ALEX LOUIS ARMSTRONG, THE STRONG-ARM ALCHEMIST. PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE, MISS…?"

Envy sighed. _Here we go again._

Then again, he _was _wearing his black top and skort for the first time in awhile—he should have expected such a reaction.

Envy forced a smile. "_Mr. Envy_. Pleased to meet you, Major."

Armstrong let out a gasp of surprise—which Envy didn't really think was necessary. "PLEASE FORGIVE ME, SIR! I DID NOT MEAN TO OFFEND!"

"It's fine, y'know. That's kind of the point of this adorable form." Envy gave Armstrong his most cocky grin. "Anyway, you said the plan was to break the door down…?"

"CORRECT, ENVY. ALLOW ME TO DEMONSTRATE." So saying, Armstrong marched over to the apartment door…and tore off his shirt.

Muscles bulged. Pecs flexed. And was Envy seeing things, or was Armstrong…_sparkling?_

_Wait. No. That can't be. Not even Homunculi can do that._

Envy stared in bewilderment at this display, as Hughes slapped his hand to his forehead.

Things began to make a bit more sense when Armstrong wrenched the door from its hinges, proclaiming "THE ART OF BREAKING DOWN DOORS HAS BEEN PASSED DOWN—"

Before Armstrong could finish his boast, the shadow-thing wriggled out of the room and into the hall, latching itself desperately onto Armstrong, eight long, tentacle-like arms wriggling around him. Envy moved forward, watching as Armstrong forced the creature off of him and into Envy's path with a quick yank.

Envy found himself tangling with what could best be described as a shadowy, humanoid spider blob. Ice-cold tentacles latched onto his arms and legs, pushing him down onto the ground and—_Wait, what's it doing—_

The creature leaned down to sniff at him.

Then the creature's mouth opened—or at least, Envy assumed that it did, judging by the smell of rotting flesh that hit his nose. He fought the urge to vomit.

"_We want to go home,_" the shadow-thing said, in a child's voice. "_Please let us go home._"

The remaining two tentacles began to claw at Envy's stomach, drawing blood. Envy quickly shifted his pale skin, barely managing to push it away.

The shadow thing was on all fours now, trembling. "_Help us. Please help us._"

"I'm not the person to ask," Envy said coldly, advancing toward it. "What did you do to the people here?"

"_The child is safe—elsewhere. The adults were useless, so we disposed of them. Those were our orders. If we did that, then we could go home._"

Envy couldn't help himself. He laughed. "And who promised you _that_?"

The shadow-thing leapt at him again, bowling him over and slithering down the hall, a black blur. Envy got to his feet and ran after it, hearing the humans behind him.

Luckily (or perhaps unluckily), the shadow-thing was stopped by an innocent passerby. Envy heard a gasp of surprise, a disturbing _squelch_, and fresh bloodstains formed on the carpet.

However, the shadow-thing didn't get far.

In its rush, it slammed into a wall, knocking a picture onto the thing's head, where it shattered. Envy was on it before it could recover, hands firmly around it's neck.

"I'm going to ask again: _who sent you?_"

The shadow-thing didn't reply.

Envy squeezed.

The tentacles twitched briefly in tandem, and Envy loosened his hold. "_You…don't really _want_ to know, do you._"

Envy laughed dryly. "I guess not. Anyway, I have a good guess as to who you work for."

Oh, yes, Envy knew. What the thing was, exactly, he had no idea, but only one person would be able to create this sort of creature and have it follow orders. _Dante. Master. _

"_We want to go home._"

"Yeah, yeah, _I know_. You've said that already."

"_We were taken. Torn from our siblings. We don't belong here. Please send us back._"

Envy could dimly hear people talking behind him, and Armstrong's big booming voice fading away.

Envy glared at its shadowed, blank face. "Why the hell should I? I have no reason to be kind to you. And if you're playing for sympathy, you just devoured two people. The humans won't like that."

The tentacles suddenly moved, clawed at Envy's stomach again, and this time Envy found himself gurgling helplessly as four Red Stones—_his life_—were taken from him, even as the remaining stones returned his stomach to normal.

"_Is that reason enough?_"

Envy growled and stomped on the shadow-blob's "neck", feeling it go limp in an instant. In the end, it was surprisingly fragile.

As soon as Envy stepped back, then shadow-blob began to glow with a golden light. In a flash, it vanished—and the Stones with it.

"Are you okay?" It was Hughes—and he sounded genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Envy stood up and turned to Hughes, hands on his hips. "Was that what you meant by 'helping out'?"

Hughes grinned. "Well, you embellished a bit, but you still got the job done."

Envy was surprised to see Armstrong missing. "Hey, where's that Armstrong guy?"

"While you were chatting, he learned of pressing business. I think his little sister's honor was at stake."

Envy snorted. "Typical human nonsense."

Hughes abruptly clapped Envy on the shoulder, a ridiculous grin on his face. "Come on, Envy, let's go celebrate! Alicia will be so glad you got rid of the shadow-thing—"

"So, do I still get my reward?" Envy asked.

Hughes' hand didn't leave his shoulder—but it wasn't a restraining hold.

_I guess that's a start_, Envy thought.

* * *

_The second player takes the white knight, all-but snatching it from the board, a small, confident smile on his face._

_The first player laughs again. "Now don't go cheering for your victory just yet."_

_The second player continues to smile. "Obviously."_

_The pieces are moving._


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only Lady Blue Café and this plot.

Chapter Nineteen: In Which There Is No Time To Relax

* * *

_"Are you going easy on me?_" _the first player asks, as the second player carefully eyes the board._

_ "Of course not." The second player smiles softly. _

"_Good." The first player taps his fingers together, grinning. "Because I'm not going easy on _you_, either."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Kimbley stared at the graph in his hands, checking it over for any mistakes. "Well, well. Nine different rogue alchemists after your blood in the past three weeks. Congratulations, you've hit a record."

Envy kicked a glassy-eyed corpse out of his way. "Great. At least it was in an alley this time."

Kimbley wasn't surprised about Envy's irritation. At first, he and Envy had had fun facing off against these new, more capable foes—Mustang had even relieved Envy of going to the CMAI, just to make sure that no one was wounded or killed unnecessarily. They still kept in touch with Winry, of course, but she was often busy, and so any plans had to be cut short.

What made matters worse was that, well, as good as these alchemists were, they were out of their depth.

Envy paced around the corpse, scowling ferociously. "Who does she think I am, a rabid kitten? She _knows _these people are small fries, so why use them as assassins?"

Kimbley crouched down and picked up the man's arm (still attached to the man, for once). "Interesting. He has the electricity symbol on his palms. Would he use the currents in his own body, the air…?"

"Hell if I know. His alchemy isn't of use anymore." Envy shrugged and leaned against a grimy wall, still scowling.

"Well, regardless, we have to get rid of this corpse." He gestured for Envy to grab the other arm, peering into the semi-darkness. "There's a dumpster straight ahead."

Envy finally grinned. "That'll do."

They began to drag the corpse, talking about other things.

"Miss Rockbell's final project is due today," Kimbley said, as the corpse's long hair dragged over the ground and through a puddle. "Not to mention the interview with the different officers. It's going to be a long, tiring day."

"Want to visit her after this? She should be at lunch…"

Kimbley nodded. "Sounds wonderful." He looked down at the corpse, smiling. "What do you think, my good sir?"

"'You two ought to be _ashamed_ of yourselves'," the corpse "said" in an arrogant tone. "'Defiling a young lady's outlook on life—shameful! Just shameful!'" Envy somehow managed to make the corpse wag a finger in Kimbley's direction.

Kimbley laughed and nearly dropped his side of the corpse, playing along. "But my good sir, defiling Miss Rockbell in any way is simply not my intention. You're misunderstanding!"

"'I think _not!_ I _know_ how you rakes act! One moment, you're the kindest man who ever lived, the next—_depravity!_'" The corpse's head swung bonelessly from side to side, as though mourning for Miss Rockbell's innocence already.

This time, Kimbley couldn't stop laughing. The corpse dropped lifelessly on the ground.

From the corner of his eye, Kimbley saw four extra shadows on the wall before them.

He turned to look behind them and sighed. "Oh, well. It looks like that plan may be put on hold."

* * *

Riza couldn't help but smile as Winry strolled up to her, a huge grin on her face.

The street café known as Lady Blue was an old haunt of theirs, back when Riza was still Winry's caretaker, before she came of age. The waiter knew the two on sight and, smiling, directed them to a table. Cars rushed by, carrying civilians and soldiers alike.

"I take it the interviews went well?" she asked, as they both sat down.

"Yeah!" Winry's eyes were bright with excitement. "I already have three possible job offers from a few State Alchemists and their units. But you already know which one I'll pick anyway."

Riza nodded. Winry had certainly grown quickly. It seemed that one moment, she was a wide-eyed young girl still learning her craft. Now, she was a woman with a determination in her eye and confidence in her step. It was almost disconcerting.

"Your tea, ma'am." The waiter placed their teas on the table and moved on to the next customers.

Winry suddenly looked worried, her fingers circling the rim of the teacup in an endless circle.

"Is something wrong, Winry?"

"It looks like most units already have a mechanic of sorts, but not a medic. I've learned both jobs. Would I be able to practice both?"

For a moment, Riza was reminded of Fury on his first day of work. _There's still such innocence in those eyes…and confidence, too._

"Well, Colonel Mustang will find something for you to do. In the meantime, you have the summer off to relax."

Winry sighed with relief. "I need the vacation. This year was pretty much non-stop work—and with all these new things happening…"

"If it's any consolation, you'll get used to it." Riza sipped her tea. "Have you been practicing the self-defense moves I taught you?"

"Every morning and night. Will I be needed on the battlefield?"

Riza put down her tea, remembering the stories of the Rockbell's lifeless bodies on the floor of their makeshift hospital. "In this day and age, medics need to be able to carry weapons as well as the average soldier. Are you prepared for that?"

Winry's eyes had that determined look again. "Of course. I know what I signed on for."

A series of honking cars caught their attention. Riza noticed a familiar white suited figure and a skinny, androgynous fellow bolting from one side of the street to the other, heading for the café. Bulky, shadowy figures were in hot pursuit.

Or they were, until a car crashed into them and sent them sprawling. Envy—that green hair was unmistakable—jumped in the air, laughing maniacally as they reached the other curb.

Victory was short lived as the shadow-creatures rose up—and as they did, the cars seemed to vanish.

Riza stood up from the table with Winry behind her, just as Envy and Kimbley hopped over the ornate iron railing to meet them.

"What happened, Envy?"

Envy quickly explained. "Another alchemist tried to kill me. I killed him. And then _these _things showed up." He pointed at the incoming creatures.

"You killed one once already. Isn't that the same type? Why not use the same technique?"

Envy scowled. "No. These are 'new models'. They're a bit tougher this time around."

"And perhaps smarter, as well," Kimbley added with a look of distaste.

"I see." Riza pulled out her handguns, taking aim as Envy stepped out of the way.

_Bang. Bangbangbang. _

A shadow-creature halted, the bullets suddenly letting light into its pitch-black, amorphous body. It let out a scream—the scream of a child in agony. Then the creature charged forward once again.

Riza's stomach churned even as she fired another round. The same thing happened—though thankfully the bullets did slow the creature down.

Kimbley clapped his hands and slammed them into the ground. The creature shuddered, and the ground beneath it caved in, sending it screaming into the sewer system below.

The other creatures leapt over the gaping hole and crawled forward, murder in their movements. Cars were already backing up, turning around and speeding away. Pedestrians scattered.

"Well"—Kimbley started to say, but was interrupted by the monsters ripping the railing out of their way and devouring it, piece by piece.

_Well, indeed_, Riza thought grimly, as the closest monster made a grab for her. She raised her gun again, and at the same moment, Winry let go with an overhand throw of a heavy screwdriver.

The monster made a noise of confusion and agony, staring at the screwdriver lodged to the hilt in it's "body". All eyes turned to Winry, who was already hefting her wrench and several other tools, her expression dark despite her faintly shaking legs.

Kimbley's smile was as poised as ever. "Ah, good. This gives us a bit more leverage. Thank you for your contribution, Miss Rockbell."

"No problem," Winry croaked, just as the shadows began moving again.

"What should we call these things, anyway?" Envy asked.

"Good question," Kimbley replied, his tone conversational. "Any thoughts, ladies?"

Winry looked at the two of them like they were out of their minds and prepared to heave the wrench.

* * *

_A pawn is taken by a pawn. The second player plucks the black pawn from the board and adds it to his collection. _

"_Hmmm…" the first player says, mapping out the pawn's progress. "This could be tricky."_

_The pieces are moving._


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only the shadow-creatures.

Chapter Twenty: In Which Winry's Tools Come In Handy

* * *

_"You're trying to trick me, aren't you." The second player glares across the board._

"_Of course I am. It's a role staple." The first player moves a rook forward._

_ The second player smirks. "Of course." _

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Winry watched as the monster in front of her pulled out her screwdriver and looked at it curiously, not bothering to stop its wound, dripping black "blood".

"That's mine," she said, surprised at how calm her voice was. "And I have plenty more of those for you to gawk at, if you're interested."

The monster tossed the screwdriver into its mouth and swallowed it.

Then it lunged forward and wrapped one tentacle-arm around her, pulling her toward its rotten-smelling cavern of a mouth. Winry struggled to get free, hitting the tentacle with her wrench. The tentacle squeezed sharply, and her wrench clattered to the ground.

_So much for heroics, _she thought, as the tentacle began to constrict around her ribs. White spots began to dance in front of her eyes.

Kimbley yelled something she couldn't make out.

_Bangbangbang_ went Miss Hawkeye's gun. The tentacle recoiled, dropped Winry, who tried to protect herself from the fall.

Luckily, she didn't need to. Unluckily, she had to deal with Envy's smug expression as he carried her away from the shadow-things, who seemed distracted by the iron street lamps.

"You're blushing," Envy said with a chuckle, adjusting his hold on her back and legs. "Something wrong?"

Winry offered up her best death glare. "Don't push it." She coughed, trying to regain her breath. "Where're you taking me?"

"Kimbley has a plan." Envy's expression suddenly turned curious. "Feeling okay?"

Winry nodded. "I think so." She gingerly touched her ribs. "Nothing seems broken."

"Hmm." Envy turned with Winry in his arms to follow Kimbley and Miss Hawkeye. He looked quickly over his shoulder.

"What?" Winry asked.

"Huh. They're eating the streetlamps."

"The metal railing…my screwdriver…the streetlamps…weird." She looked down at the ground, then back up at Envy. "Speaking of weird, why haven't you put me down? I'm okay, really!"

Envy continued carrying her. "This isn't the time to find out you're _not_ okay…"

She jostled about as Kimbley led them into an alleyway. It was just big enough to give them room to move. Paths branched off to the left and right. Envy set Winry down. Kimbley toyed with his hat, eyes half-closed in thought. Miss Hawkeye was reloading her gun.

Kimbley looked up at Winry and smiled, holding out her wrench. "I believe you dropped this. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Just a little out of breath." She smiled gratefully. "So, what's the plan?"

"I'm working on one."

"Well, work _faster_," Envy said tersely, shifting from foot to foot. "They're coming."

Winry clutched her tools tightly, turning to face the alley entrance. _I don't know what I can do to help, but I'll do _something_ to get us out of here._

Kimbley placed his hat back on his head. He walked toward her and placed his heavy hand gently on her shoulder.

"I believe I have a plan. Miss Rockbell, if you would be so kind—"

The shadow-creatures slithered into view and then down the alleyway. The one who had fallen into the sewer had returned, judging by their numbers. Envy met them with a blur of cartwheeling kicks. Miss Hawkeye fired her bullets, meeting their mark. With the shadow-creatures sufficiently distracted, Kimbley detailed his plan to Winry.

"All right," Winry said, placing her tools on the ground in a neat row.

Kimbley clapped his hands together, the electric tang of alchemy causing the shadow-creatures to pause—and when they did, Envy whirled into them again. Kimbley rested his palms on the tools, causing them to crackle and glow for an instant.

When the glow subsided, Kimbley nodded to Winry, and picking up a wrench she threw it at a shadow-creature.

Which promptly devoured it.

She followed up with two screwdrivers, and another wrench—and watched as those were devoured by the other creatures.

"Come on, Miss Rockbell!" Kimbley took Winry by the hand and lead her to the pathway on the left, where Miss Hawkeye already crouched.

Envy leapt back over to them. "Now what?"

Kimbley smiled and hummed what sounded like "Ode to Joy".

"…Cover your ears and brace yourselves."

They did so.

Explosions rocked the alleyway, sending Envy and Winry crashing on top of Kimbley. Winry could hear the shadow-creatures shrieking and wailing in childlike agony. She could feel two pairs of strong arms protecting her from flying debris—bits of white rock, wood, and pieces of shadow.

Then it was over. She let her hands drop, realizing with embarrassment that her head was resting on Kimbley's chest, with Envy shielding both of them with his back.

"…Thank you both…" she said, unsure whether to move. Her face burned at the contact.

"You're quite welcome," Kimbley said, his hands carefully letting go of her. "Interesting. I do believe we've fulfilled the requirements of a typical adventure-romance situation: you've been carried in Envy's arms, and we've both blocked you from harm."

Winry laughed, embarrassed. "You think?"

Kimbley smiled. "Perhaps we should thank Envy as well?"

Envy coolly dusted himself off. "Come on. Let's get going. Lieutenant Hawkeye here's probably _dying _to tell Ponyboy about this."

Winry got to her feet. "Okay. Let's go."

* * *

_Without the slightest hesitation, the second player counters with his rook. _

_ "That was fast," the first player says. _

_ The pieces are moving. _


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only the Shadow Children.

Chapter Twenty-One: In Which Plans Are Revealed and Created

* * *

_The first player rubs his temples and looks over the board. _

_ "What's wrong?" the second player asks, clearly trying not to sound smug._

"_Nothing, nothing. Just…tired, that's all." The first player rests a finger on his rook, watching it wobble back and forth on the board._

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Roy steepled his fingers together, staring at Envy and the rest of his unit across his desk.

"So, these things—Shadow Children, you called them?—are stronger now, but still defeatable. Good. Though I'm sorry you had to be dragged into this, Miss Rockbell. It looks as though you'll be joining our unit early."

Winry simply smiled. "I was trained for this. I'm happy to be of use."

"Thank you. And they're still after you, Envy?"

Envy shrugged. "I guess so. I mean, they saw me first." He grinned. "Glad to see you liked my name for once, Ponyboy."

There was a pause.

"Okay, Envy," Roy said coolly. "Confession time."

Envy looked at him blankly, not saying anything.

"I've had a feeling since you got here that you were up to something. You said that you were kicked out of your house, abandoned by your master. A tolerable excuse. However, only _now _are enemies trying to attack you. Wouldn't it have been easier on your master to just kill you and dispose of the body while you were with them?"

Envy's fingers curled and uncurled.

_One point for me, it seems_, Roy thought smugly.

"Envy." Roy leaned forward. "Why are you _really _here?"

Envy's purple eyes flickered from side to side, thinking things over. "…The part about Master kicking me out of the house _is _true—she ordered me to infiltrate the military and cause some commotion." He grinned. "I _love _that sort of job, so I took it. And then she threw me out without any real explanation."

"What was the point of causing commotion?"

That seemed to throw Envy for a loop. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "…Y'know, she never _did _specify what the point was. I was so damn thrilled to get out of the house, I didn't bother to ask."

"'She', huh? Interesting."

Envy shrugged. "Yeah, 'she', so what? A master is a master. She's kept me busy and needed for 400 years…and now she's trying to kill me. _Typical._"

Winry, standing alongside Kimbley, looked almost pityingly in his direction. Roy cleared his throat, suddenly hit by a realization.

"And you have nowhere else to go, do you. You have unique needs, am I right?"

Envy seemed to realize what Roy was driving at. He bared his teeth in a defiant grin. "_Right_, Ponyboy. And you're saying I'm stuck with you and your merry band, here."

Roy leaned back in his chair, unable to stop himself from smirking. "Ironic, isn't it? You can't stand us humans, but you can't live without us."

Envy laughed, the harsh, desperate sound ringing in the room. "Congratulations, you power-hungry bastard, you've _got me._ So now what?"

"Well, you said your master lived in Dublith, right? Greed as well?"

"I'm guessing so, yeah."

"Well, then. I have something to keep you busy this summer…after a fashion." Roy toyed with his pen. "I think it would be a good idea to get Greed on our side. One more pawn your master can't use."

Envy snorted. "He won't go. Especially not if _I _ask him."

"Hence why it won't just be you who goes." Roy smirked. "I plan on coming along—and if not me, then perhaps Hughes, if he's willing."

Envy's brows furrowed, then cleared again. "What about Kimbley and Rockbell, here?" he gestured lazily to Kimbley and Winry. "It'll be educational for them both—a way to see how useful they'll be to you."

_He just wants company, _Roy realized, feeling more confident than ever. "Let's discuss this privately." He looked at the others. "We'll call the rest of you in when we're through."

With a quick salute, the others were out the door, Kimbley and Winry looking behind at Envy until the door closed.

Envy moved closer to Roy's desk, fingers tapping on the wood. "Something you want to tell me, Ponyboy?"

"If we're in the mood for divulging secrets, I have one of my own." Roy leaned back in his chair, watching Envy's expression.

Envy's lips curled slowly into a cocky grin, eyebrows raised. "Let me guess…does it have something to do with my skort?" He looked down, suddenly thoughtful. "Y'know, I think it's more of a kilt, really. A kilt with shorts."

Roy cleared his throat. "That's not what I was after. It's about Kimbley and Miss Rockbell."

Envy's cocky grin began to fade a little. "Oh? _Do_ _tell_."

"I see you've grown attached to them." Roy smiled. "I hoped as much."

Envy's grin was gone now. "You planned on me finding something to keep me occupied."

"Yes. That was one reason why I enrolled you in the CMAI. The other was because of the missing children—some of them came from the Institute, and I wanted to see whether or not you or your Master were behind the kidnappings."

"She may be behind them after all. But she never ordered me to steal kids." Envy shrugged. "So, what was the second reason, then?"

"The second reason was that I quickly learned you're the sort that gets bored easily. So I needed a reason to keep you here. I should have chosen a different place than the CMAI, now that I think about it, but in the end you still found two humans to keep you interested."

"…And now that I'm _really _stuck here…are you going to take them from me?"

Roy almost laughed—but thought better of it. The expression on Envy's face was one of someone who knows all too well that everything he wants can and will be taken away, and resistance would only be met with pain.

"I hate to admit it, but as sarcastic and manipulative as you've been this past month, you've also done everything I've asked without complaint. I have no real reason to punish you. So no, I'm not going to take them away."

Envy's eyebrows rose, and a smug smile slithered onto his face. "You might regret that, y'know."

Roy shrugged. "We'll see, won't we? Let's bring everyone back in. Let's figure out our traveling plans."

Once everyone was back inside, traveling decisions were made.

Winry checked her tool bag and sighed. "Unfortunately, I need some replacement wrenches and screwdrivers. Kimbley helped turn them into explosives to try to kill the Shadow Children. Luckily they worked, but I can't do much without them."

Roy nodded. "There's a town called Rush Valley on the way to Dublith. It's an Automail boom town. We'll stop there on the way to Dublith."

Winry's eyes grew wide, and a comically large grin spread across his face. "_Rush Valley? _I've always wanted to go there! It's an engineer's dream!"

Roy watched as Envy and Kimbley looked on with amusement as Winry, giddy, continued talking about what she'd heard of Rush Valley, while Hawkeye tried to hide her smile. The rest of his men simply gawked.

Winry finally let out a high-pitched squeal of delight—then cleared her throat and attempted to look professional.

"I'm sorry, sir. Forgive the outburst."

"That's quite alright—though as this _is _a secret mission of sorts, I'd advise restraining yourself." Roy suddenly had an idea. "Actually…why don't you three"—he pointed to Envy, Winry and Kimbley—"go to Rush Valley, and thus Dublith, ahead of us, on the pretense of vacationing together. Major Hughes will meet up with you in Rush Valley two days later, and myself in Dublith the day after him. That way, no one will be the wiser."

Envy grinned. "Sure, sure. And you don't have to tell _us_ not to do anything horrible to Miss Rockbell, here. We know the drill, right Kimbley?"

Kimbley nodded, the picture of gentlemanly decorum. "Indeed. No harm will befall Miss Rockbell."

Winry laughed, her cheeks pink, but there was quiet strength in those eyes and her stance. Roy had a feeling she would be fine.

The real question was: would the plan work in the long run?

* * *

_The two rooks collide—the black rook is taken by a suddenly very awake first player._

_ "I thought you were tired?" The second player raises a bemused eyebrow._

_ "I am. I just saw an opening." The first player yawns dramatically, stretching in his chair._

_ The pieces are moving._


	22. Chapter 22

And now…on to Arc 2!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. I do own the Savery automail outfitters—I named it after Thomas Savery, the man who created the first steam engine.

Chapter Twenty-Two: In Which There Is A Surprising Smile

* * *

_The second player moves his knight forward._

_ The first player frowns—another space, and his bishop could have taken it. _

_ The second player raises his eyebrows challengingly._

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Hughes watched as Alicia clambered onto the chair beside Envy at breakfast, something hidden in her dress pocket.

_Well. _Hughes sipped his coffee. _This'll be interesting._

Today was the day of Envy, Kimbley and Winry's "vacation" send-off. Hughes was honestly surprised at how well the timing panned out: there had been no awkward questions from the higher-ups (yet), no mishaps with train schedules…though granted, it _had _taken a week for all the permission papers to be approved for Hughes and Roy. Not everything goes according to plan.

Speaking of "not everything going to plan", it seemed that Fuhrer Bradley was waffling on whether Kimbley was officially part of the military or not.

Kimbley thought that the Fuhrer was trying to keep him in line. It was a possibility. It could also be a way to potentially keep _Envy _in line—it was obvious to anyone with eyes that bonds were very quickly growing between the two…along with Winry.

Kimbley's influence was certainly obvious. Hughes found himself quietly amused at Envy's traveling clothes: a green waistcoat over a formal shirt, opened just enough to give his upper chest a good sunburn, and black trousers. The sleeves were rolled up, out of the way of the toast crumbs. If not for his crazy green hair, Envy would almost look normal.

"Mr. Envy?" Alicia asked, as Envy chomped on his toast that wallowed in jelly.

Envy looked at her curiously. "Yeah?"

"You're going to find Jack, right?" Alicia leaned forward in the chair, pigtails bouncing lightly.

Hughes felt a sympathetic pang in his chest for his little girl, even as Envy offered up an affirmative nod as he continued eating.

"Well…this was his." Alicia took a blue-and-green beaded bracelet out of her dress pocket, handing it over to Envy. "He left it here before he vanished. He'll want it back. His Daddy made it."

Envy looked at the bracelet, turning it over in his hands. Hughes could see the wheels turning in his head. Finally he put the bracelet in his waistcoat pocket.

"Okay," Envy said. "I'll see what I can do."

Hughes nodded in his direction. "I'll make sure you do."

Alicia laughed and hugged them both—much to Envy's obvious discomfort and Hughes' amusement—just as Gracia came in bearing a basket that smelled of delicious apple pie.

"This is for you and your friends on the train ride, when you get hungry." Gracia handed the basket over to Envy, who took it with a nod of thanks. "When do you think you'll be back, Envy?"

Envy looked at Hughes for a moment, then looked back at Gracia. "Maybe two weeks. Apparently the Fuhrer's having some kind of ball that he _insists _we go to when we get back. So two weeks will probably be the longest."

Gracia smiled. "All right. Good luck."

Envy raised his glass of orange juice in a lazy salute.

* * *

The train left the station at 9:30 PM, and Winry could barely hold herself still.

She sat opposite Envy and Kimbley as social mores dictated, her blue plaid sundress a welcome change from her often-hot mechanic suit. Clouds were gathering, heading south, which meant the possibility of a storm.

Winry felt a shiver of delight run down her back. _Rush Valley! _The _Rush Valley! And it's summer, too, which means that the automail outfitters will be exhibiting their wares out in the streets. I could get a good look at their designs, maybe learn a little! _

Kimbley looked up from his newspaper, smiling at her. "Thinking of something pleasant, Miss Rockbell?"

Winry nodded. "I've been hearing of Rush Valley all my life—it's the mecca of automail. To actually be able to go is…a real treat."

"I'm glad that we can accompany you." Kimbley carefully folded the newspaper and placed it on his lap. "Did you have any particular outfitter in mind?"

"Hmm…" Winry thought for a moment. "Probably Gotts, or Savery. They have a certain fluidity to their automail that isn't often seen in most places." She laughed. "But who knows? Maybe we'll find a totally new mechanic who no one's tried before!"

_Weird_, she thought. _I don't feel as uncomfortable as I was before._

Envy, leaning his cheek on the window, looked back at her. "Just don't go overboard and spend _all _your money at Rush Valley. This _is _a two-way trip, after all."

Winry sighed. "All right…but don't _you _have money?"

Envy shrugged. "Under Dante's rule, Homunculi aren't allowed to have possessions of any kind, including money. That's partly why Greed left."

Kimbley rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "But you aren't under Dante's rule now. You can have what you wish. Well, unless Colonel Mustang takes offense. But for now, he seems lenient enough."

The words took a moment to sink in. Envy's eyes suddenly widened. His lips twitched into a surprised smile. It wasn't cruel, or fake. It wasn't overly cheery, either. It was just a smile, but a welcome sight to Winry all the same.

"You're right. Huh. I didn't think of that." Envy patted Kimbley on the back, making him lurch forward. "Good thinking, Kimbley."

"My pleasure." Kimbley suddenly seemed to remember something. "…But wait. If you couldn't have any possessions, then how did you get your journal?"

Envy chuckled. "I used the form of an innocent little girl in a crafts store."

"Clever," Winry said, unable to not smile at the mental image of Envy disguised as a little girl. "But now the owner'll know that form, so you won't be able to use that one around Central."

"A small price to pay."

Winry glanced outside—the clouds were rolling in faster now; or was it just the train moving? "Looks like it's going to rain."

Kimbley smiled. "Rush Valley is a desert town. The rain will be a welcome change."

Envy made a little noise of agreement. "Let's just hope that we can find an inn fast when we get there."

"You don't like rain?" Winry asked.

"Well…yes and no."

There was a sullen pause.

Envy suddenly smiled, a strange combination of innocence and something else entirely.

Winry felt her cheeks burn.

"Is something wrong, Miss Rockbell?" Kimbley's smile was charming.

Winry shook her head, cheeks still softly burning. "No, it's nothing." She gave them her most determined smile. "Nothing at all."

Outside, the storm clouds rumbled.

* * *

_The first player moves his rook another space, heading in an innocent pawn's direction._

_ The second player frowns this time. _

_ The pieces are moving._


	23. Chapter 23

I'm sorry for the delay, everyone! (Real life is quite the pain). It seems that the particular muse of this story is rather like an affair: it loves you, leaves you for a few weeks, comes back and knocks you off your feet, leaves again…you get the idea. But apparently (and thankfully), this fic _refuses _to be unfinished.

Also, I'm working on an original work now too, under the name "Godell" at Fictionpress. Just a heads-up: it's slash/yaoi/men in love. It probably won't be for everyone here, but I just wanted to inform you in case you wonder why I'm taking so long on things.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only Roger.

Chapter Twenty-Three: In Which An Offer Is Rejected

* * *

_The players are silent. A clock chimes in another room._

* * *

Roger sat quietly and watched the birds peck at his mother's body.

A day ago, he would have pushed them away—now he saw that his mother was only good as bait. That body wasn't his mother. Not anymore. There wasn't enough left of her to qualify as such.

He lashed out with trembling, sunburned hands and somehow caught one of the hungry birds by the neck. Roger didn't realize how fragile the bird really was until he tore off its head.

The other birds squawked and flew away, leaving Roger with his prize.

Roger had always been a resourceful boy. And there were ruined houses still burning around him, if he needed warmth or something to cook with. There were some pots and pans lying around.

Roger was also a hungry boy. He abandoned all pretense of cooking anything and instead ripped the feathers away, sinking his teeth into the still-warm flesh. It wasn't his mother's cooking, of course, but it would have to do.

He heard footsteps behind him and snapped around, suddenly ashamed of the way he must have looked. He became especially ashamed when he realized the person behind him was a lady.

"I didn't mean to scare you," the woman said softly, her voice deep and cultured. "Eat if you want. A child like you shouldn't be in a place like this."

Roger kept eating, but watched her carefully.

"I could offer you a home. A family. All you have to do is help me with some…" She smiled. "Housework."

Roger spat out a tiny bone. "What kind of housework?"

The woman crouched down, her beautiful red dress rippling with her movements. "I'm an alchemist, you see. I'm in need of a young assistant."

Roger was a smart boy. Since the sudden military attack that killed everyone he loved, "trust" wasn't in his vocabulary. "No thanks. I'm staying with Mom."

The woman's kind look suddenly turned into distaste. "You'll die."

Roger nodded solemnly, looking into her cold eyes. "I'll be with Mom."

The woman stood. "If you won't join me willingly, I may as well honor your wish." She snapped her fingers. "Isn't that right, Children? Now you have a new friend to play with."

The shadows were moving. The shadows were growing. The shadows were wrapping around his ankles, pulling him toward a dark, foul-smelling mouth.

Roger didn't see his mother. The woman lied.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only the Tin Man Inn and the inhabitants.

Chapter Twenty-Four: In Which Winry Is A Pleasant Surprise

* * *

_The first player stares at the remaining pieces. "It looks like we're starting to get bogged down."_

"_Well, it _is _getting late." The second player yawns and looks at his pocket watch. "Damn. I have paperwork due tomorrow."_

_The first player lets out a surprised laugh. "I thought you finished it hours ago!"_

"_This was supposed to be a break." The second player rubs his temples. "Let's take a break."_

_The pieces lie unmoving._

* * *

Kimbley peered out of the train station's alcove, staring at the rain hissing down into Rush Valley.

_So much for a balmy summer day. _He sighed and looked to Winry and Envy, who were talking to the conductor about nearby hotels.

Envy held Kimbley and Winry's suitcases in his hands, swinging his arms back and forth lazily. There was an almost boneless quality to his movements.

"There's an inn called_ Tin Man _not too far from here—just go straight, down past the barber shop on the corner there, and take a left. You'll see the sign hanging above the door."

"Thanks!" Winry took the map the man offered with a smile.

_Such a lovely smile, _Kimbley thought. _The sort of smile that could bring the world to her door._

Winry turned to look at him, blue eyes innocent and trusting. "Mr. Kimbley? Is something wrong?"

Kimbley shook his head. "No, no. It's nothing."

Envy raised an eyebrow, looking knowingly in Kimbley's direction.

Kimbley noticed a box full of umbrellas near the door. He picked out a red umbrella—no price tag visible—and gestured to the conductor. "Sir, how much?"

The conductor shook his head, grinning. "It's yours to use, sir! Just return it to the box when you're done with it. Hope your visit here isn't this wet all the time!"

Kimbley bowed gratefully.

The umbrella made a pleasant _whoomp _noise when Kimbley opened it. With that, the three went out into the rain to find_ Tin Man _inn.

"It's a bit difficult to fit under here," Winry said with a laugh, as she and Envy pressed up against Kimbley to stay in the umbrella's shadow.

It was rather distracting, such warmth…but Kimbley was a gentleman, and he faced this challenge with poise.

Envy seemed to recognize his predicament, judging by the smug look in his purple eyes.

Kimbley held the umbrella higher. "Is this better?"

"Yep," Envy said—and he and Winry gave him a little more space.

Kimbley looked around the silent streets. The shops seemed to be open, but there was no bustle in the streets, other than a few tourists like themselves looking for a place to stay. There were no children playing. But then again, the water _was_ slowly rising up past his shoes—nobody likes to get cold and wet.

"Let's hurry," he said, and began to pick up his pace. Winry and Envy followed, Envy a step ahead of the umbrella.

It didn't take long for them to find _Tin Man _inn—the sign rattled ominously in the growing wind. Lights were on inside, and there seemed to be some kind of commotion going on—loud and brash and eager for sport.

Kimbley pushed the door open and gestured for Winry to enter. With a smile and "Thanks" she stepped in, the light bulbs above giving a warm glow around her. Envy followed her, shaking the rainwater off like a dog onto the already-wet coat rack.

Kimbley watched as Winry looked around at the sights and sounds, nearly turning in a circle to marvel at the sound of gears whirring in clocks on the walls, the chandelier made of spare parts dangling above, the fireplace blazing in what looked like a sitting room, where a large crowd of people were gathered.

"COME ON, THEN, IF YOUR AUTOMAIL'S HIGH QUALITY—COME AT ME!"

A braggart was clearly doing his job. Many were jostling forward, eager to prove themselves. Automail gleamed in the firelight.

There was a spring in Winry's step as she walked over to the service desk. Envy—who had been more fascinated by the crowd—stepped back to Kimbley, grinning.

"She's _already_ enchanted by this place," Envy said, quietly enough that Kimbley could barely make it out. "Any ideas on how to use this to our advantage?"

Kimbley chuckled. "In all seriousness, what do you want with her? Somehow I doubt this is an innocent intent."

Envy looked at him with childish innocence. "I just want to _play_. With her mind, that is. Nothing _too_ drastic, just stretch it a little. I was _going_ to try to break her, but now this'll be a lot more fun. And if I _did _break her, I wouldn't have this cushy job."

"What a pleasant idea. It seems we're in agreement, then."

Before Kimbley could say anything more, Winry walked over to them, looking curious.

"I've ordered two rooms—you two get one, I get the other—rooms 814 and 815. Just in case any Shadow Children come by."

"_Clever_ _you_," Envy said—or nearly cooed, as the bellhop took the suitcases. "You're learning fast."

"Thanks." Winry turned to look at the bellhop. "So, do you want to check out the room…?"

Kimbley couldn't help but laugh softly. "I believe you may need to rephrase that, Miss Rockbell. It could be taken as an…_intimate_ suggestion."

Envy laughed—but not loud enough to distract the crowd.

Winry turned back to him, now looking red-cheeked and embarrassed. "Not like _that_. Just to look around, get an idea of the place."

Envy shrugged, his laughter subsiding. "I'm curious about these guys over here. It sounds like some kind of contest."

Winry looked at the crowd thoughtfully, then nodded. "Sure. We can go to the rooms after. I have the keys."

She handed Room 814's key to Kimbley.

Envy blinked. "Then how will that guy…oh, right. Extra keys. Never mind." He cleared his throat and ambled over to the crowd, peering over broad shoulders to watch the action.

Kimbley wasn't fond of crowds. He didn't like being jostled. He stood back, where he could see the duel in progress—automail limbs against automail limbs. And wonder of wonders, an average-sized man was winning against a giant.

The giant swung his heavy iron fist forward, but the smaller man reached and grabbed the giant's automail arm with his own lighter model, bending the big arm just enough so that it _crunched _and turned into a limp hunk of metal and sparking wiring. The giant grabbed at his shoulder, face contorted in pain. But he laughed anyway and handed over 620 cenz to a growing pile on the floor between them.

"Who's next?" the victor asked, raising his fist. He slicked back his sandy hair with a sweating hand.

_Something isn't quite right, _Kimbley suddenly thought.

The pushing and yelling began again. Kimbley scowled and waited for the next contender to show up. The process repeated itself—the new opponent would score a few hits, even get the current champion off his feet for a count of five, but then the man would stand up and lash out with that hand of his, and the fight would be over.

Kimbley noticed Envy watching the fights with particular interest, barely blinking. With every shout of victory and skulking loser, his smile would grow. Winry, meanwhile, looked as though she was trying to figure out a particularly irritating puzzle.

"So," Envy whispered to Kimbley and Winry, eyebrows raised. "See anything 'off' yet?"

"He's cheating," Winry said, her blue eyes dark with anger. "And he's ruining some mechanic's hard work!"

"Yes, but the question is how." Kimbley watched as the man echoed his earlier challenge again.

"No need to worry," Envy said with a cruel grin. "I've got this covered."

Winry looked at him curiously. "How?"

Envy was already on the move.

Kimbley leaned down to Winry's height, whispering in her ear "Watch closely. You'll see what he means."

Envy began whispering in people's ears, slinking from one person to another throughout the crowd before heading back. Kimbley admired the innocence in Envy's posture, as if he was asking a simple question. Envy leaned forward, just close enough to be heard by a tall man, before retreating without a backward glance and joining Kimbley and Winry.

Soon, the crowd was thrumming with discontent. Then a shout rang out:

"Hey, you! Who's to say you're not cheating us?"

"_Oh_," Winry said, lovely blue eyes wide with a sudden realization. "Clever."

The man snorted. "What makes you say _that_? My technique isn't rigged!"

_But it _is_, you coward_, Kimbley thought, as more outcry poured in.

The man was just about to pick up his earnings and leave when Kimbley noticed Winry wasn't beside him anymore. She was right in the middle of the circle, clearing her throat to get the man's attention.

"Excuse me," she said softly, quieting the crowd. "Can I see your automail for a moment, sir?"

The man looked like he was going to refuse, but instead held out his arm for Winry to examine. Winry looked it over carefully, eyebrows furrowing as she looked from the shoulder to the fingers for anything suspicious. Then she found something.

"Kimbley? Envy? Can you two look at this for a moment?"

The man snatched his hand out of Winry's grip and turned to run—but Envy grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him back. The crowd closed in on them, and the man knew it would be foolish to try to fight, and he was obviously frightened.

Kimbley lifted the automail arm for inspection.

Five barely-noticeable transmutation circles were engraved into the man's automail fingertips. Kimbley recognized the symbol of destruction—it was on his own palm.

"I see," he said calmly. "So you used alchemy to destroy the opponent's automail. Did you not trust your mechanic's hard work?"

"Yeah!" someone shouted. "Someone here probably worked his ass off to perfect that automail!"

The crowd began to push forward. Winry grabbed the bag of money and held it over her head.

"Is there anybody here who lost their money to this man?" she called out.

Several people with broken automail at the bar raised their good hands.

Winry tossed the money to them. "You'll need this for your repairs."

The bag landed neatly beside the bar.

The bulky man who had lost only a few minutes ago picked up the bag almost gingerly. "And what about _that _bastard?" he asked, pointing at the scowling cheater.

Kimbley watched as Winry stared silently at the man, then looked questioningly at Kimbley and Envy. He could tell she didn't know whether to throw him to the lions, let him go, or if there was a third option. Envy leaned close to Winry.

"So…what's it gonna be?" Envy grinned.

Winry's gaze flicked to his, and Kimbley was amused at the chilly look in her eye. She didn't say anything—just looked from the man to Envy and Kimbley, still thinking things over.

Finally, she spoke to the crowd.

"This is your problem. It's your job to take care of this guy."

With that, Winry turned on her heel and, looking back to check if Kimbley and Envy were following, headed down the hallway to their rooms.

The crowd were busily talking amongst themselves, trying to figure out what to do with the cheater—and they made sure the man didn't try to crawl away. The last Kimbley saw of him, he was kneeling in the center of a tight circle, surrounded by animated and angry amputees and engineers.

Overhead, lights flickered on and off, illuminating Winry for a moment, then shrouding her in darkness. There was an intriguing light in her eyes—Kimbley couldn't pinpoint what it was, exactly.

"…Thank you," Winry said, a small smile suddenly blooming on her face.

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"For letting me make the choice of what to do." She laughed softly, almost looking a little embarrassed. "I mean, I've never done that before—calling someone out on a rigged game. You hear about it all the time, on the news, in books, but I never thought—"

"Never, huh?" Envy sauntered closer, head cocked to one side. "You seemed pretty comfortable to me. Or was that because we backed you up?"

Winry looked to one side, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "…I don't know. I'm a mechanic. I'm a surgeon. I've dealt with people who said I couldn't do either job, because I was a girl. But I can't do everything. Still, it feels a little…_weird _relying on you two."

Kimbley smiled. "Yes, I must admit, we do have a reputation. But here we are, helping you, for better or for worse."

Winry's cheeks flushed, and Kimbley was pleased to note that her posture was not tense or worried. Rather calm, in fact.

"And why _are _you helping me, anyway? There's always a reason for people to do anything, especially you two."

Envy grinned. "You don't believe your love will redeem the wicked?"

Winry shrugged. "No. I always thought it was the wicked's choice to redeem themselves."

"Valid point," Kimbley said, as he watched Winry toy with a button on her dress. "But it's the innocent's choice to walk with the wicked?"

"I've been walking with you for awhile. Are you sure I'm so innocent?" Winry stood front of them both, looking up with bright eyes and a slight hint of a smile.

Kimbley couldn't keep a pleasantly-surprised smile from his face. "That's quite the bold statement. Interesting."

"Hey, careful, Winry. You might give us the wrong idea," Envy purred, his tone sending a shiver down Kimbley's spine—and Winry's too, judging by her expression.

"I'm aware that you two find _something _interesting about me." Winry's smile was sweet. "But I'm not going to be your pawn. Or one of your dolls."

Before Kimbley could say anything, Envy beat him to it. He rested his hands with surprising care on Winry's shoulders. Winry looked surprised, but not scared. That was a good sign.

"I _knew _there was something about you I liked," Envy said, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, Winry Rockbell, you just made things even _more _fun."

"Thank you?" Winry said softly.

Kimbley knew what was coming. At least, he _hoped _he knew what was coming. A part of him wanted to move into that little moment. A much larger part of him wanted to witness what he thought was about to happen.

Envy bent his head down to Winry's, appearing slightly hesitant. Winry watched him closely, her eyes wide. Glancing mischievously at Kimbley, Envy turned back to Winry and without hesitation this time, leaned down and kissed her.

Her eyes never blinked. Winry was blushing slightly and looking annoyed.

"Well that was anticlimactic."

Envy laughed.

"Before we continue this interesting new development," Kimbley interrupted, "we have to call Colonel Mustang. He'll want to know we made it here safely."

Envy sighed and rested his hands on his hips. "Fine, fine. We'll call."

"Okay," Winry said. "I'll go unpack, then. But first—what are you smiling about, Kimbley?"

Before Kimbley knew it, Winry was there in front of him. Her cheeks were still slightly pink from Envy's kiss. Kimbley was surprised to feel heat rising to his own cheeks.

"We wouldn't want anyone to feel left out, would we?" Winry asked, crooking a finger in Kimbley's direction.

He didn't have far to bend, as it happened—Winry's lips tentatively brushed his, and he caught the faint smell of oil and her own natural scent before she slowly moved away, smiling.

As she headed down the hall, Envy leaned over to Kimbley and whispered "Maybe this _won't_ be so easy."

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "But did we ever want it to be?"

Envy shrugged and clapped him on the shoulder, gesturing to their door. "True, true. So let's get that call over with and have some fun."

* * *

A clock ticked solemnly in their room as Envy and Kimbley lay stretched out in their beds, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sounds of Winry unpacking in the adjacent room.

Envy smiled. "Interesting."

"Yes, isn't it?"

* * *

_"Before we break, let me just make this move."_

_ The pieces are moving. _


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-five: In Which There Are Unexpected Guests

* * *

_The game is in stasis._

* * *

Roy looked over his finished stacks of paperwork with undisguised pride. He was getting pretty good at this "sign here, check there" business. Now, if only there could be _less _of it…

Envy and the others were now in Rush Valley, laying low—according to Envy's phone call an hour before. Though with Envy's…_tendencies_…chances were something nasty (Shadow Children in particular) would pop up and need to be _managed_. And Roy would have to perform damage control—not a happy thought in the least.

Hawkeye handed Roy a fresh cup of Earl Grey tea and eyed the stacks of completed work. "Well done, sir. I only had to reprimand you twice."

"Well, what can I say? Your perseverance inspires me." He smiled up at her as she carefully placed the tea by his hand. "As does your tea."

Hawkeye smiled and shook her head. "You should know by now, sir, that no matter how much you flatter me, I'll have more paperwork for you to do tomorrow."

Roy's smile faded from his face as she dutifully carried the first stack of paperwork out the door. Hawkeye was his bodyguard, his lieutenant, his conscience. She was his oldest friend and, during the unsettling "war" in Ishbal and the aftermath, she was also a fellow insomniac. They could banter casually back and forth at the office, they could protect each other from harm (mainly Hawkeye would protect him), and they could try to create a better country.

Any other sort of relationship was illegal and unprofessional. Roy had to work with what he had.

That didn't mean it didn't hurt sometimes, this shadow-affair of theirs.

A knock came at the door.

"Come in," Roy said calmly, before sipping his tea.

The Fuhrer himself marched into the room, looking so friendly that it put Roy immediately on edge. Hawkeye was right behind him, watching carefully.

The Fuhrer was getting on in years, but he was hardly soft. From the black patch over his left eye to his battle-toughened physique, Fuhrer Bradley looked the part of "leader and protector of the country".

Roy stood and saluted, but the Fuhrer waved him back into his seat.

"Good evening, Colonel Mustang. I see you're working hard these days." The Fuhrer's mustache twitched when he grinned. "Getting ready for that vacation of yours?"

"Yes, sir." Roy forced himself to smile.

"Will your Lieutenant be going with you?" The Fuhrer asked, looking over at Hawkeye.

"I'm afraid not, sir." Hawkeye moved to stand at attention at Roy's desk.

"Oh?"

Hawkeye smiled slightly. "Yes, sir. But I will be in contact with Colonel Mustang, so that everything runs smoothly around here."

The Fuhrer's laugh was jovial and honest. "Very good, very good! It looks like you two are capable officers. I'm glad to have you among my ranks."

_If only you knew_, Roy thought grimly. _Or maybe you _do _know about my plans._

"Thank you, sir." Roy and Hawkeye saluted.

There were times that Roy couldn't believe that this man had started the Ishbal Extermination Campaign. The Fuhrer was known for eccentricities such as random acts of kindness, or being generally informal with his subordinates. He seemed to cultivate the image of a father to everyone—which may have been a byproduct of having a young son of his own.

"Speaking of capability…" The Fuhrer suddenly turned serious. "How is the Homunculus behaving under your command, Colonel?"

"He's a heckler most of the time, but he does the job I assign and does it well. The trick, I think, is to give him something to keep him occupied, and more mundane necessities—food, shelter, and protection."

"I see." The Fuhrer smiled. "It seems that perhaps these Homunculi could be recruited to our side. They could be quite useful."

"Perhaps, sir. As long as we treat them like people, I think that could work."

"But do they _qualify _as people, Colonel? They have strange powers, and are seemingly invulnerable. Normal humans certainly don't have those abilities."

Hawkeye cleared her throat. "If you will allow me, and with all due respect, sir, humanity seems varied and unpredictable. 'Normal' might not be the correct word."

Roy leaned back in his chair, turning his attention to Hawkeye.

"Then what would you suggest, Lieutenant?" The Fuhrer's tone held a slight hint of condescendence.

"I believe 'mortals' would be appropriate."

"Ah, but that would make Homunculi _gods_, Lieutenant. It would give them vanity. They would be difficult to control."

Hawkeye smiled coolly. "Envy—the Homunculus—seems to already have a certain degree of pride…pardon the pun, sir. But I think he has a _sense_ of mortality."

The Fuhrer's laugh was, thankfully, as warm and boisterous as ever. "Perhaps you're right, Lieutenant. But I guess you'll have to ask—Envy, was it?—about that."

"Perhaps so, sir." Hawkeye's tone was as neutral as ever.

After a few minutes more of idle chatter, the Fuhrer took his leave, wishing Roy a safe trip before the door closed with a _ch-thunk _behind him.

When they were sure the Fuhrer was out of earshot, Roy and Hawkeye sighed with relief. It was always unnerving, chatting with the man Roy meant to usurp. There were some moments where Roy felt genuinely sorry for planning a coup against such a fatherly figure.

And then he remembered the corpses of men, women and children flooding the land of Ishbal, some of them shipped off to laboratories for tests. There was no turning back, not now. Not when those terrified faces haunted his dreams.

_I wonder if Envy dreams_, Roy thought, as he prepared to go home. _Or if he has nightmares._

He checked the door to his office was locked twice before he left. One couldn't be too careful.

* * *

_In Envy's dream, he is sitting in a field, cool wind blowing against his face._

_The sun is setting, turning the world cold. But Envy doesn't mind. The fresh-spilt blood on his body is keeping him warm. He looks down at the ravaged corpses of Hoenheim and his oh-so-_precious _children, smiling in satisfaction. Finally, _finally_, revenge is his. For 400 years he's waited and waited, and now, there's no more need to wait. Now Hoenheim knows how Envy felt, all those centuries ago, when he left Envy to rot in his own misshapen innards, claiming him "an abomination"._

_Envy lifts young Edward's corpse up by his soft, golden hair, grinning at the way the broken brat's body sways limply in the wind. Edward's eyes are closed, shut away from the world, blood from the wound on his head dripping down over the lids. He looks like he's crying. The blood is drying._

_Suddenly, his eyes are open. His lips are curled into a broken, unholy grin. His hands—creaking and moving awkwardly, but very much moving—lunge out and grab at Envy's neck, squeezing tightly. _

_Envy gags and topples over, Edward weighing him down. Suddenly, they're in an open grave, surrounded by skeletons and rotting corpses, all moving closer, all pressing down onto Envy. Their fingers plug up his mouth, scratch at his eyes, tear at his Ouroboros tattoo. _

You will never be loved_, they whisper, as Envy struggles for breath. _Not for what you've done to us.

_Edward's golden eyes are burning like Hellfire, until his skin begins to peel away from his hacking laughter. _

You will never be loved, _Edward repeats, as Envy's vision blurs. _So don't bother trying.

_There is a _squelch_, and a _rrrrrip_, and—_

_Somewhere, there is the sound of something being pushed away, being hit. There is an explosion._

_The weight is gone…_

Envy snapped awake, lurching over the side of the bed to hyperventilate. The lamp was on, much to his surprise.

Kimbley stood beside him, breathing heavily and looking more disheveled than Envy had ever seen him. His white pajamas were now missing a few buttons and in desperate need of mending. His hair was unbound and sticking up every which way.

"Shadow Children?" Envy asked, still shaking.

"Precisely," Kimbley replied, pointing at the scorch mark on the floor. "There was one on both of us. It tried to attack me first, but it wasn't stealthy enough."

Envy's grin slowly faded from his face as he looked down at his body. "…I'm bleeding."

His stomach was drenched in blood—his own blood—and his Ouroboros tattoo was unrecognizable. It looked as though the Shadow Child had torn through the skin to find something.

"Should I get Miss Rockbell to bandage it, or will it heal on its own?" Kimbley was unflappable as always.

"…I don't think so." Envy shrugged. "I'll just wait for the Stones to heal me. Let's go check on Winry."

"All right." Kimbley was just about to leave when a knock came at the door. "Who is it?"

"It—it's Winry." She sounded out of breath. "Please, let me in!"

Kimbley moved quickly to the door, while Envy watched the blood continue to seep out. He tore his bedsheet into long strips and pressed the pieces to the wound, waiting.

Kimbley pulled Winry inside and shut the door just as another Shadow Child moved to grab her. Winry looked unharmed—just terrified, and for good reason. Her hair was loose and wet—she had probably just gotten out of the shower.

"Are you alright, Miss Rockbell?" Kimbley asked, eyeing the dangerously shaking door.

"Yes," Winry replied, a sudden tremble worming its way into her voice when she saw Envy. "_Envy_—"

Envy gave her a reassuring smile, feeling new skin and tissue slowly patch up and settle over the wounds. "There's no need to worry. The wounds are healing."

The door stopped shaking—but the Shadow Child seeped under the crack in the door. It sniffed and looked from side to side. It seemed Dante still hadn't bothered to give them sight.

Suddenly it moved toward Envy, tentacle-arms outstretched. Envy threw his bloodstained sheet at it, covering it in white and red. It struggled, giving Kimbley the perfect chance to attack.

Kimbley managed to clip the Shadow Child on the shoulder before it turned to face him.

The Shadow Child pushed the sheet off and away, whacking Kimbley in the stomach in the process. Kimbley smacked into the nightstand sharply. With a quick press of a palm to the wood of the nightstand and a flash of white, Kimbley created a bulky wooden fist. The force of the sudden blow knocked the Shadow Child back. The sheet fluttered to the ground, useless now.

The Shadow Child struggled to its "feet", but Envy was already moving, kicks and elbow strikes pushing the Shadow back against the wall. One tentacle-arm wrapped around Envy's neck, squeezing tightly, causing his vision to blur.

"_Help us go home,_" it whispered, before lunging forward and surrounding Envy in shadow.

Envy wheezed in response, feeling that horrible weight pressing down on him again. The rotting stench filled his nose and mouth, and his stomach tried to reject it. He couldn't see anything. All he had was bone-breaking weight and a sickening stench all around him.

He somehow pulled the inky hand away from his throat and began to kick at the blob above him. It gave slightly, and he kicked harder, waiting for the Child to let go.

It simply pressed down harder.

Suddenly, the darkness above him wobbled. Someone was hitting the Shadow Child with something—a stick? An umbrella?

The Shadow Child writhed and screeched, focusing its attentions on the attacker instead of Envy. Envy scrambled to his feet and somehow got free, still wheezing from the pressure. He escaped just in time to see Kimbley clap his hands together and—

_BOOM._

The umbrella was gone—and so was the Shadow Child.

Once again, Dante was making things too easy. Or perhaps she had finally gone senile. That would explain a few things—like how there were so many Shadow Children, and no clear sign of Lust or Gluttony or Pride.

Kimbley looked around the room, eyebrows raised. "_Well. _This will make sleep difficult to come by."


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only the Shadow Children.

Chapter Twenty-six: In Which There Is An Attempt At Vacationing

* * *

"_Little baby, lay your head_

_ On your pretty cradle-bed;_

_ Shut your eyes at close of day;_

_ Now the light is gone away…" _

_(_Little Baby _by Jane Taylor)_

* * *

Unfortunately, Kimbley was right about not being able to sleep after the Shadow Child incident. Winry had tried everything she could think of to fall asleep, and of course nothing worked. It didn't help that the walls were thin, and the neighbors in room 816 snored loud enough to wake the undead.

It was hot, too. There was a heat wave sludging through the South, apparently, even with the rain still pouring down into the next day. Clothes stuck to skin as easily as glue, and so were of no use to anyone. The very air seemed thick and burning.

When the clock struck 7 am several hours after the tussle, Winry had long since given up. Judging by the rustling and quiet voices in room 814, Kimbley and Envy had given up too. Winry lay on her back staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of bellhops and other guests walking back and forth down the hall. She could hear Kimbley struggling to get Envy out of bed. Whatever Kimbley was doing, it wasn't working.

Winry found her thoughts drifting to the day before, when she had kissed them both. She wasn't sure what to make of this new shift in gears. _They're both murderers, and yet…I trusted them enough to get this close. I trusted that they wouldn't hurt me._

Winry let out a disgusted huff. That was an incredibly naïve thing, to trust people she _knew _were murderers. But they hadn't hurt her yet—and Winry had a feeling that if they had wanted her dead, she would have been dead long ago.

_Is that why I'm so calm around them, then? Because they've kept their word? _Another thought struck Winry. _Or am I trying to fix them?_

She let the idea sink in. It made sense. She was a mechanic and a surgeon, after all, and if there was one thing she was good at, it was taking things apart and putting them back together. Envy and Kimbley seemed to have similar hobbies—on a mental and alchemical scale, at least. Though with them, the chances of putting something back in one piece was…_debatable._

There was also her tendency to be attracted to "bad boys with hearts of gold"—the keywords being "heart of gold". Either Envy and Kimbley had realized and tapped into that weakness of hers, or they actually _did _have a warmer side underneath all the bloodstains and mindgames.

Or maybe even _that _was part of their charm.

Winry laughed quietly in the silence of her room. _I think I'm taking things too seriously at this hour. _

There came a knock at the door. Winry quickly pulled on a white nightdress before hurrying to the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It's Kimbley. May I come in?"

Winry unlocked the door. "Of course. What is it?"

Kimbley looked just as sweaty and uncomfortable as she did. She noticed with amusement that black and red buttons had replaced the missing white buttons on his pajamas. He must have applied them through alchemy.

"Are you hungry, Miss Rockbell?" he asked, smiling. "Luckily this inn has room service, and I wondered if you would like to have breakfast with Envy and me. Maybe you can help me get him out of bed."

There was something oddly…_domestic _in those words. Winry wasn't quite sure how to respond at first. But her stomach answered for her with a plaintive gurgle.

"That would be nice, thank you." Winry pointed to her clothes. "Just let me change, and I'll be right there."

"Is there anything in particular you would like?"

Winry thought for a moment. "Umm…toast and marmalade, and an apple…oh, and milk. Thanks for asking!"

"You're welcome. I'll see you shortly." Kimbley nodded agreeably and closed the door behind him.

The white sleeveless top and blue skirt seemed determined to take forever to get on. The heat was relentless—and Winry was starting to wonder whether Fate had something against her being in Rush Valley. Naturally, if that _was _the case, Winry didn't particularly care. This was a vacation, and she was going to have fun.

Even with those nagging self-doubts worming around in her head.

* * *

Winry stepped carefully into Room 814, surprised that the food had already been brought up.

The small table where the food was set had clearly been moved over from its spot in front of a mirror, judging by the tracks in the rug. Kimbley had brought chairs over too—he sat in clear view of the door, looking rather imposing in the center of the room. Winry couldn't help but notice that he hadn't put on his suit jacket. The light purple waistcoat was a sudden burst of color on his otherwise all-white clothes.

"Welcome, Miss Rockbell. Everything seems to be ready," Kimbley said, standing and pulling out a chair for her.

As Winry sat down, she noticed an Envy-shaped lump in the bed on the right. A few strands of long green hair peeked out between the sheets, as did a slender hand. The lump rose and fell in time to soft, quiet breaths.

It would have been convincing save for the toes wiggling near the end of the bed.

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "We have food, Envy."

Envy grumbled and fidgeted and pulled the sheet tighter over his head.

"We have food…and Miss Rockbell."

Winry didn't know what to think as the long fingers curled almost thoughtfully into the mattress, then slowly withdrew back under the sheets.

Kimbley sighed—but there was a smile on his face. "We have food, Miss Rockbell, and questions about the Shadow Children. Care to join us?"

There was a moment of silence before Envy sat up, still clutching the sheet and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "…Prithee…my _fere_…just five more minutes."

Kimbley chuckled. "You truly are half-asleep, aren't you? What language was that?"

Envy moved to the edge of the bed, staring blearily. "No clue."

The sheet slid off his body, revealing…skin. More skin than usual. The only thing that _was _covered, the only thing that kept Envy modest, for that matter, was barely a cover at all. The cover in question was small, black, and…was that a little green ribbon…?

Winry quickly focused on her breakfast, convinced that Fate wanted to rake her over the coals. The room filled with a white light for a moment—and the flutter of clothes falling on skin meant Envy was now decent.

Envy sat down and got food for himself, yawning and clearly still half-asleep. Winry began spreading marmalade on her toast, watching as Kimbley cut an apple into precise slices on his plate. She was distracted by the fact that Envy's style was not the usual shade of pitch-black, but dark blue.

"So…" Envy rolled a peach lazily in the palm of his hand. "Did someone say Shadow Children?"

"Yes." Kimbley finished cutting his apple and speared a slice with his fork. "Could you enlighten us as to what you know about these pests?"

"As far"—Envy yawned again—"as I can tell, they come from The Gate. Part of them, anyway. The black goo."

Kimbley's eyes lit up in curiosity at those words. "The Gate?"

Envy nodded. "Dante—my old master—was able to summon it through alchemy. Apparently, it holds all the knowledge anyone could ever desire. _However_, it would also tear away parts of her body as a 'passage fee'…unless she had a Philosopher's Stone. Even then, I think it took something less…_physical_. The Gate has these long, black arms that look a lot like the Shadow Children's arms, so…"

Winry shuddered at the mental image of thousands of hands tearing at an eager alchemist's flesh.

"I see." Kimbley looked down at his hands. "Well, I'm happy to say that as tempting as The Gate sounds, I think I'll pass."

Winry found the look in his eyes very interesting. He was always very calm, very businesslike—he treated battle as a philosophical debate, a battle of smarts, instead of life-threatening danger. But he also didn't want to lose any part of himself. Was he practical, or simply cold?

Kimbley looked up. "But does that mean that Dante somehow dragged some part of The Gate into our world?"

"She would need some kind of payment for Equivalent Exchange in order to make that happen." Envy bit into the peach, chewing thoughtfully. "That might be why the kids are being stolen."

Winry nibbled on her toast. "They'd be too scared to work for her. They would be scared of alchemy, especially with this Gate right in front of their eyes."

Kimbley let out a thoughtful hum. "Maybe she bribed them with something. If they were orphans, she could offer them a family. Or if they were greedy, candy and toys. Perhaps a lullaby would do. Or if they were the kind who needed to feel validated, or were the curious sort…the list goes on."

Envy nodded. "That's usually how she works. For Homunculi…well, she told us we could become human if we did as she said. In my case, there was the bonus of revenge. She figures out what you want and uses it against you."

Winry shuddered. "She sounds horrible."

Envy chuckled and rubbed his thumb along the peach's contours. "And she taught me everything I know. Unfortunately for her, I was patient and got what I wanted. And now I'm here…"

Envy suddenly looked old—as if he had seen many things and couldn't tell if what he had seen was good, or bad.

Envy shook his head, as though to clear it, and went back to eating. "_So_," he said, making sure to swallow before talking. "It looks like today will be a good day for shopping around. We'll need those mechanic skills of yours eventually, after all. You may even have to hotwire a few cars for us!"

Winry didn't know whether to laugh or something else entirely. "That would be breaking the law, I'm sorry to say."

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. "But you _do _know how…?"

Winry smiled and looked down at her plate. "Well…I was very bored on winter vacation…and who knew what could come in handy later."

The rest of breakfast was spent idly talking and planning out the day, as the sound of automail engineers setting up shop filtered in through the window.

* * *

Envy grinned as Winry walked around the busy streets of Rush Valley, a spring in her step and eyes practically sparkling at every new automail design and mechanic tool she found. She was smart, though—for all her oohing and aahing, she discreetly and carefully assessed the price and quality of each item thrust cheerily before her.

What was rather clever about Rush Valley's market was that customers could try out the wares themselves—there were shiny models to inspect, rudimentary automail to practice on, and customers waxed poetic about how _thankful _they were they had been treated by _this _mechanic and not theone down the street.

"Oh, _wow! _A real, Gotts brand adjustable wrench! And it comes with a combination wrench set? _Amazing!_" Winry let out a squeal of delight and checked the price, clearly finding that satisfactory too.

Envy looked toward Kimbley, who was quietly scoping the place out, always on the lookout for Shadow Children. But he also was watching Winry go about her shopping with the fascination one would expect of a human like Kimbley.

A small, cold metallic hand suddenly tugged on Envy's wrist. Envy looked down and found himself staring at a smiling, wild-haired young boy. His automail arm and leg (both on the left side, how interesting) gleamed in the sunlight.

Envy scowled down at him. "Look, kid, if you're some kind of product placement, you'll have to look somewhere else."

The boy blinked his big blue eyes. "I'm not product placement. I'm a helper."

He looked to be around 10, or possibly younger, with shaggy black hair that was clumsily kept out of his eyes by skull-shaped hairpins. The rest had been tied into a shaggy clump of hair that seemed determined to curl tightly in the heat. He was barefoot and wandering around among the customers in a white t-shirt and blue shorts, automail visible.

Envy laughed. "Sorry, kid, but we don't need any help." He pointed to Kimbley and Winry. "I'm on vacation. Go bother someone else."

Kimbley was suddenly looking over his shoulder. "Now, Envy, he's only a boy."

"Yeah. And probably a pickpocket."

"That's too bad, Mr. Envy. I was supposed to tell you about the Shadow Children—how to save the kids in there. Like me." The boy shrugged and lifted his flesh foot.

Envy stared in shock at the Ouroborus tattoo on the sole of the boy's foot. "…Wait. That makes you…"

But before Envy could say any more, the boy sped off toward an alleyway…with Kimbley's hat.

Envy chased after him, hearing Kimbley and Winry running not far behind.


	27. Chapter 27

Before we begin this chapter, I'm sorry for the flip-flopping update schedule. Hopefully this will improve come September. Also, I'm going to be busy researching for the next week and a half, and so there will be no updates during that time.

Regardless, if you readers could leave a review saying whether or not the Shadow Children make sense/need more explanation/have too much explanation, that would be very much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only the Shadow Children.

Chapter Twenty-seven: In Which There Is Information Freely Given

* * *

"_Are you done with the paperwork yet?" the first player asks, pacing in front of the unfinished chess game._

"_Not yet," the second player replies, placing another document on the ever-growing pile. "Just ten more to go."_

_The first player grumbles and glares at the unmoving pieces._

* * *

Envy finally caught up to the boy just as he reached a phone booth on the other side of the alley. It didn't take long for him to wrench the door open and pull the kid out. The kid was laughing loudly at the whole situation.

"Who are you working for, _kid?_" Envy asked, slamming the kid against the side of the booth.

The kid's smile was full of very pointed teeth, like every Homunculus. "Your voice is funny. Do you smoke?"

"No. But I've been in plenty of bars in my time. That's beside the point. Who are you working for? And what's your name?"

"My name's Wrath Tullamore," the boy said, still grinning. "My boss gave me that name."

"No other Homunculus has a last name. Usually, we're never given the choice." Envy rolled his eyes. "Probably because it sounds weird as hell."

Wrath made a face. "It's the fault of whoever named us after sins in the first place. It's like they never meant for us to live."

Envy pretended he didn't care. It wasn't that difficult.

Wrath looked up at him with pleading eyes. "If you let me use the phone, I can connect you with Boss!"

Envy scowled. "Will you tell us about the Shadow Children if I do?"

Wrath nodded. "I was told to anyway. Like I said, I'm a helper."

"For who? Dante?"

Wrath's innocent expression suddenly turned livid. "No. _Never her. _Never again."

Envy laughed softly, giving Wrath a bit more slack. "Oh-_ho. _Looks like your name suits you after all, little one. Of course, that leaves only one choice—"

Behind him, Kimbley cleared his throat. "Envy. From the view of an outsider, you are harassing a child. People are justifiably uncomfortable with that sort of thing."

Envy let Wrath drop to the ground, standing back and giving him some space. "Fine, fine."

Winry peered over Envy's shoulder, looking surprised. "He's a Homunculus too?"

Envy nodded. "Yeah. The very first child Homunculus."

Envy waited for Wrath to compose himself, surprised at how lenient he was being toward the boy. In fact, he had been downright _kind _recently. Normally, he would be bitter, callous, and mocking to anyone around him (save perhaps Lust). Now, he was…a little less so. It was a bit unnerving, this sudden shift—was it Stockholm Syndrome, or something more natural?

Envy shook his head and looked down at Wrath, who was counting out change for the phone. "Call your boss, then. Let me talk to him, and then you'll tell us about the Shadow Children."

Wrath smiled and nodded. "Yep. I'll be just a moment."

Envy nodded and watched as Wrath dialed the number, standing on tiptoe to reach the phone. The phone itself nearly enveloped his head. There had never been a Homunculus child before—it was more than a little jarring, to see something considered so loveable by humans instead as a sin.

"Hello, Boss? It's Wrath. I found Envy!" Wrath suddenly laughed—it was such an innocent, carefree sound that it was almost unnerving. "…No, no, he's with humans. They look kinda interesting."

Envy tapped his foot impatiently. _Get on with it, kid._

Kimbley rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "There's no need for impatience. He knows you're waiting."

Finally, Wrath gestured for Envy to come into the phone booth. He handed the phone over with a cheeky grin before walking out to talk with Kimbley and Winry.

Envy pressed the phone to his ear. "Envy speaking. So who are you, Mr. Charitable?"

A lazy chuckle crackled down the line. "_I'd prefer 'avaricious' if you don't mind. Or handsome devil. Or the Ultimate Shield—since that's the nickname you gave me so very long ago. Take your pick._"

Envy knew that voice—even if it had been a century plus since he had last heard it. It was the sound of vintage wine pouring into a glass with the undercurrent of a lazy Sunday spent in bed, with a hint of danger added for flavor.

Envy rolled his eyes. _Great. He's letting out my inner poet. That can't be good._

"Well hello there, Greed. What an unpleasant surprise!"

"_I'm so pleased you missed me, abomination. That's what you like to be called, right?_" Greed's voice was tinged with amusement.

"Ha-ha."

"_I hear tell from the darker corners of society that you and a few _humans_ are coming to visit me. Interesting. Any particular reason?_"

"Well, I've been stalked and nearly murdered by Shadow Children…and I thought you might be the man behind it."

"_Hate to burst your bubble, but it's not me. It's Dante. They've been after me too, those crazy kids. Luckily I managed to get one on my side._"

"So I've noticed. How did that happen?" Envy twirled the phone cord around his finger, feeling it grow taut.

There was the sound of leather creaking through the line. "_Why don't you ask Wrath?_"

"I want the unbiased version."

Greed sighed. "_You've really grown paranoid these days._"

"No, not really. Just cautious. Who knows who may be listening in on us right now?"

"_As it happens, nobody. This is a private line._"

Envy scowled. "How'd you pull _that _off?"

Greed chuckled again. "_Connections, Envy. Lots and lots of connections._"

"Sounds like a euphemism to me. And a convenient way to keep this conversation going."

"_Maybe. Anyway, just ask Wrath. He'll be more than willing to tell you._"

Envy decided to drop that part of the subject. "So…from the looks of it, you want to free these Shadow Children instead of kill them." He laughed. "I never pegged _you _for a hero, Greed."

"_It's not heroics_. _It's practicality._" The sound of liquid being poured into a glass could be heard. "_The more people I have on my side, the higher chance of me winning._"

"_Riiiiight. _Anyway, you're in Dublith, right?"

"_Maybe, maybe not. You'll see when you get there. Oh, and by the way, those humans…_"

Envy's hackles rose. "…Are _mine_. It sounds like you have plenty of 'possessions', as you call them."

Envy quickly checked behind him to make sure Kimbley and Winry hadn't heard. He couldn't tell. Winry was too busy fussing over Wrath's automail, while Kimbley talked to Wrath. Kimbley, Envy was amused to note, had his hat back.

He hadn't expected that kind of reaction from himself—but then again, he supposed having a new boss and a different workplace would do that to a person.

Greed's laughter was loud and slightly mocking. "_Oooh, that was a scary voice! Got some bite to go along with that?_"

"You know I do. And I have no qualms about taking that big mouth of yours and—"

"_Okay, okay, I get it, Big Scary Envy is after me. But I'm _Greed_, remember? There's no such thing as 'more than enough'. Don't worry though, I'm not dumb enough to get into a fight with you over that sort of thing. After all, these are the first possessions you've had. I may think you're a worthless old coot in the body of almost-jailbait, but I know that feeling of freedom. I won't take them._"

"Glad to hear it."

"_What I was _going _to say before you so rudely interrupted me was: just how many humans I can expect to have on my property?_"

Envy grinned. "Only a few. You can handle it, I'm sure."

Greed sighed. "_You're still an unhelpful ass after all these years. I should've known._"

"Just because I'm free doesn't mean I'm helping old ladies cross the street these days. I'm just pushing them into the road less often."

Greed snorted. "_Good for you. Anyway, I think this conversation's gone on long enough. I'd like Wrath back in one piece, by the way. He's a precious possession._"

Envy pretended to mull it over for a moment. "…Okay. See you."

"_Later._" Greed hung up.

Envy placed the phone back on the hook and walked out, shielding his eyes from the sun. "Okay, so, Greed is this kid's boss. And he's expecting us."

Kimbley's brows furrowed. "That isn't a good sign. Should we think of another plan?"

Envy shrugged. "We'll be meeting him either way. Let's just go with what we planned."

"I like that idea!" Wrath was all smiles. "I was telling Mr. Kimbley about the Shadow Children while you were talking with Boss."

"Yes." Kimbley adjusted his hat. "But start at the beginning, please."

Wrath nodded and suddenly turned serious—as serious as a child could be, anyway. "I was one of them until a few months ago. I lived in The Gate for most of my life. I was sent there when I was first born. It was very dark in The Gate, lonely too, but there were others like me. I had a physical body, while they had only shadows."

"How did you get out then?" Envy asked.

"Several of us were pulled out of The Gate all at once one day." Wrath shivered. "I don't remember much of that. There was a lot of screaming, and crying, and blood, and no one knew where we were."

Wrath's eyes grew haunted and lost. He inhaled shakily before continuing into a frightened babble.

"We were told to eat so we did and there was more screaming and then I realized that another person was inside me and molding into me and I wanted to go home—"

Winry reached out and rested her hand on Wrath's shoulder. "It's okay, Wrath. You're telling a story. A memory. It's okay."

Wrath closed his eyes, breathed in and out, and opened them again. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"We were told by Dante that if we did as we were told, we'd get to go home. She asked us to bring more kids to her house, to go all over the country and bring them back. They had to be orphans, or fresh from a catastrophe, or abused, or just plain lonely. And we were supposed to offer them food and shelter and a family."

Envy couldn't help but smirk. "It worked, of course."

Wrath shook his head. "Not always. But when that happened, we would just drag them off with us, or mold them into ourselves. And then I met Boss."

Wrath's expression practically oozed hero worship. Envy prepared himself for the inevitable gag-reflex.

"Dante wanted to kill Greed—and you, Envy—but Greed was closest. It didn't take long to track him down—he was practically right next door. I snuck into his secret base early in the morning, hoping to catch him by surprise. When I finally got to his room, Greed—I mean Boss—was waiting for me.

Wrath smiled. "I tried to fight him anyway, but he just grabbed me by the neck and forced me down. He said"—Wrath deepened his voice—"something like 'You're a kid, right? It's a little too soon for you to try and fight your betters'. I told him I wanted to go home, and I'd be able to if I killed him.

"Boss didn't say anything for a moment. Then he asked what my name was. I told him that the human inside me was named Robbie, but that I didn't have a name. He asked me what I meant, and I told him that Robbie and I were more-or-less one single being—but not by choice."

Envy noticed that Winry hadn't dropped her hand from Wrath's shoulder. How very motherly of her.

"Boss told me—us—that he would help. But we would have to be patient and help him, and it might hurt. Robbie and I were fine with that. So he tried to split open the shadow-shell that we were both in. He pulled and we pushed. It hurt, but we kept going, even when it felt like our skin was tearing apart. I lost my arm and leg in the process. But we were free, and that was all we cared about."

Kimbley frowned. "Is that how it works? Reaching in and pulling them out?"

Wrath shook his head. "Robbie and I were the first to be free, so our escape was messier. I've figured out that you just have to ask them their name and offer for them to join you. They'll come on their own."

Envy raised an eyebrow. "Sounds awfully easy. What happens if we kill them, then? We haven't had much choice in what to do about them before."

"The children are drawn back into the Gate. We could feel them leave when it happened—like a balloon popping under your feet."

Envy barely blinked at the disturbing image. "Okay…so that's it? All we need to know?"

Wrath bounced back, grinning again. "Pretty much. Well, I've got to get going. Boss wants me home soon. He'll want to know if I did my job."

Before anyone could say another word, Wrath leapt onto the nearest rooftop and dashed away, the sunlight on his automail leaving the trio momentarily blind. When they regained their sight, the sun was blocked by ominous clouds, already beginning to leak rain.

"What now?" Winry asked, trying to shield her new tools.

Envy looked around quickly and spotted a movie theater just a block away. "Anyone up for a movie?"

Kimbley and Winry nodded, and Envy wasted no time in grabbing them both by the hand and running toward the theater, laughing as the rain pelted down, soaking their clothes and slicking their hands.


	28. Chapter 28

I hope everyone got through the crazy weather this past week!

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. I do own _Attack of the Decadent Lizard People_.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: In Which The Shadow Children Make A Return

* * *

_The second player finally returns to the board, looking things over. "You didn't move anything, did you?"_

_The first player sits down, adjusting one of his white pawns. "Of course not. I want to prove to you that I don't have to cheat to beat you."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Two hours after the movie, Envy was still gleefully quoting _Attack of the Decadent Lizard People, Part 1: The Musical_, much to Kimbley's amusement and Winry's mild irritation.

While the sky was still gray and foreboding, the rain had stopped. Large puddles needed to be traversed—and Kimbley and Envy each offered an arm. Winry dangled between them.

"Thank you…both of you," Winry said, as she stepped onto dry ground.

"Just a gentleman's duty." Kimbley smiled, as he and Envy deposited Winry.

Winry laughed and added "Envy, you've been saying all those lines from the movie, but you haven't said what your favorite part was."

"I think the best part was when that boxing waitress said 'I always knew you were a sexy beast' and shot the Lizard Man with that gun in her cleavage! _Bang!_" Envy cackled and pointed an imaginary gun at a worn-out ad for men's cologne.

"I never pegged _you_ for a fan of cheesy schlock," Winry said, unable to not smile.

Envy shrugged. "I like big, loud, stupid things sometimes. It's fun to see what stupidity humans are capable of." He blinked. "Except for you two. But who knows? And hopefully it'll be something non-lethal."

Winry sighed and shook her head. _Oh well. _

"I must admit I found it amusing as well—but the explosions were far too small for my liking," Kimbley added. "They also didn't seem to know how much was too much."

"As you would, I'm sure." Envy chuckled. "Maybe next time they'll look you up, let you give them some advice."

Kimbley hummed thoughtfully. "That would probably end badly. I admit I have a reputation as an insane bomb-loving madman. Which, granted, is somewhat true, but that's what most average citizens know of me. I'd have to cultivate a more positive image before they would bother to consider me any sort of expert."

"Ooh, let me find a kitten in a tree for you to rescue." It wasn't clear whether Envy was being serious or sarcastic—the giddiness from the ridiculous movie was still in full force.

Kimbley smiled. "And an old lady to help cross the street."

Winry decided to get in on the fun. "And some doe-eyed orphans to adopt."

Envy grinned. "And some kind of run-down organization to help support—anonymously, of course."

"And some kind of charity work, like reading books to children." Kimbley paused. "…Actually, that might not end well. The children would probably get bored of me waxing philosophical about why Dick and Jane are running so much, and from what."

Winry laughed. "Actually, that might be useful. There could be a budding philosopher in the group."

"Or they would all fall asleep, and my work would be done."

"Think you'll want to give it a try?" Envy asked, still grinning.

Kimbley adjusted his hat. "Perhaps, perhaps."

They continued talking and laughing (and attracting stares from people) as they made their way back to the _Tin Man Inn_, leftover drops of rain dripping down from the streetlamps and rooftops. It was a nice, peaceful moment.

However—like many peaceful moments—it didn't last long.

A group of Shadow Children were blocking their path—or at least, they _seemed _like Shadow Children. Two of the seven appeared to be the usual dark blobs that they were used to seeing. The others, however, were far more elongated, almost skeletal, complete with bone-white jaws that seemed to be grinning.

"Hello," Winry called out, remembering Wrath's advice. "What're your names?"

One of the Shadow Children stepped forward uneasily, sniffing the air warily before continuing. "_…Joshua. That's the name of the boy inside me. Will you let me go home?"_

"Yes," Kimbley replied. "We'll help you."

There was a small _crack_, and the Child's "body" rippled and shook, as if it was trying to escape. "_How will you help?_"

"We'll give you a family," Winry said, smiling and holding out her hand.

Just as the Shadow Child moved closer, one of its skeletal brethren lunged forward and ripped it apart, sharp fingers scratching and tearing. The poor thing didn't even have time to scream.

However, the remaining Child burst through its shell, revealing a young girl with braided brown hair and dark blue eyes. She scampered toward them, tears of fear and happiness streaming down her face. Winry caught her in her arms, and the four of them ran.

"What's your name?" Winry asked the girl, as she clung to her. She noticed sadly that the girl hadn't come out unscathed—the left side of her face seemed to have lost a layer of skin.

"Nina," the girl said, her voice a slight lisp. "Nina Tucker."

"Introductions can come later, let's go!" Envy yelled, as they sped down an alleyway, then another, then another, the walls blurring past them.

Behind them, Winry could hear the scrape of bones on concrete as these new Shadow Children closed in. With Nina's added weight and the weight of her shopping bags, she was lagging behind—until Kimbley switched places with her, pushing her ahead of him. There was a sharp _clap_, the sound of sparks, and an explosion rocked the thin alleyway.

Finally, they burst into a busy street, dodging pedestrians and trying to warn them away. The majority of them, upon seeing the creepy skeletons skittering toward the four, decided to heed their warnings and beat feet.

One of the Shadow Children lunged forward, tackling Winry and Nina to the ground. The others attacked Envy and Kimbley. Winry struggled to reach her new tools, but the Shadow Child was crushing her, it's skull-like jaw opening, bloody drool dripping down onto her cheeks. Nina buried her face in Winry's shirt.

"_Meat_," it growled, scratching one sharp finger over her cheek, drawing blood. "_At last_…"

"_Meat_," the others echoed—Winry could hear Kimbley and Envy hissing in pain not far from her—"_Fresh meat_…"

The Shadow Child ran a sandpapery tongue over the bleeding wound, causing Winry to cry out. With a laugh that sounded more like a retch, it moved for her neck—

Until a knife burst through its skull, knocking it backward.

Winry struggled to her feet—and found a rough, tanned hand ready to help her up. She took it, and found herself face-to-face with a man who could very well have been a rock star. His hair was black and spiky, and his thick neck was practically swallowed up by a extravagant fur-trimmed jacket. Brawny and with the sort of face one would call "wolfishly handsome", he had a laidback feel to him.

The man adjusted his small green sunglasses, revealing catlike reddish-purple eyes. "Hey, there, little lady." The man's voice was a sly, rough tenor. "You must be one of Envy's humans. It looks like you could use a hand. Mind if I join in?"

Without waiting for an answer, the man waded into the struggle, allowing Envy and Kimbley to escape their attackers.

Winry suddenly noticed the Ouroborus tattoo on his right hand. The man grinned—revealing sharklike teeth.

"Hello, Greed," Envy said, his tone wryly humorous. "I thought you were in Dublith?"

Greed chuckled. "My _base _is in Dublith. However, Wrath's automail mechanic is here. We're here for maintenance…and to try and find you, Envy."

"I'm so _happy _you were worried about us," Envy said.

Greed smirked and gestured toward a car parked nearby, where Wrath sat in the back seat, waving energetically.

"So, let's go for a ride. Maybe we'll lose them."

Everyone crowded into the car—Greed was driving—and sped off, the Shadow Children in hot pursuit. Winry barely had time to help Nina buckle in.

Envy was not pleased at all by this turn of events. "You always have to screw with things, _don't you?_"

Greed raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to call it _saving you. _Not that the high-and-mighty, stuck-up Envy would _need _help."

"You should have more respect for your elders," Envy retorted, as the car raced past gawking pedestrians— by the looks they were getting, no one drove cars in Rush Valley.

Kimbley turned in the passenger's seat toward Envy. "Wait…Mr. Greed is younger than you?"

"Yep," Greed replied cheerily, the steering wheel practically a blur. "By 100 years or so. I'm the 'second-born', for lack of a better word. Envy here just likes to look all…"

Greed squinted in the rearview mirror. "…Wait a minute, what _is _that? Is that some kind of…bra or something? Are you even a guy under there these days?"

Envy's look was deadpan as he lifted his shirt and revealed a very masculine chest, much to Winry's embarrassment.

Greed didn't take it well. "Jeez, don't strike the driver blind! That was uncalled for!"

"If you could please watch the road, Mr. Greed, that would be lovely," Kimbley said, looking back. "They seem to be gaining."

"So much for a vacation," Winry said, sighing as the car bounced and swerved down another street.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: In Which There Is Finally A Car Chase

* * *

_The first player decides to move his knight forward._

"_You moved a little farther there than possible." The second player states this as a fact, not an insult, but there's still a hint of smugness behind his eyes._

"_Fine, fine," the first player grumbles, and moves back a space. "Is that better?"_

"_Much better. And rather difficult." The second player frowns down at the board. _

_The first player smiles. "Yes."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Envy stared at the Shadow Children slowly approaching the car, sizing them up. "Anybody got a weapon?"

"There's a pistol underneath your seat," Greed said calmly, while swerving violently out of the way of a scampering child. "Can't you just stick your hand out the window and turn it into something sharp and pointy?"

"Maybe," Envy said, searching for the gun. "But this is more convenient. Winry, I think it's underneath your side. Could you—?"

In any other situation, Envy would have enjoyed watching Winry bend and fidget slightly to reach the pistol, her ponytail slipping down over her shoulder and revealing her slender neck. Then she straightened up, triumphant and delicately holding the pistol in her hands.

Envy thanked her and took it, checking to see if it was loaded. It was.

Rolling down the window, Envy poked his head out into the roaring, warm air, pointing the pistol at the Shadow Children.

He fired at their legs—partially because there was still a chance of turning them to Mustang's side, and because who knew where stray bullets would end up in such a busy town?

One Shadow Child screamed and crumpled—it didn't sound much like a child—while the others skirted the bullets. One scraped a hand over the car, trying to gain purchase. A bullet pierced its arm, but the Shadow Child still held grimly on. Envy shot it again, and again, and finally it reared backward and fell out of sight.

"…Are they gone?" Nina asked, peering over the seat—she had to practically scale the seat to see anything.

"Good question." Envy locked and loaded, still pointing the gun out the window. "Great. They're scattering."

"Shall I create a few fireworks?" Kimbley asked, rolling down his window.

"They could avoid them," Envy said, firing at one of the nearer Shadow Children. He missed.

Envy could hear Greed handing Kimbley a gun. "Here. Do you know how to use these?"

"That I do," Kimbley said. "Though I will admit they aren't my weapon of choice."

With that, a piercing chorus of gunshots added to the already grating noise around the car.

_Speaking of noises…_ Envy looked up at the car roof, noticing the scrabbling sounds above. He readied his gun.

A spindly bone-hand smashed through the car roof, groping blindly. Greed casually grabbed it by the wrist and ripped the hand off—and began grappling with a sentient hand. The hand wrapped itself around his throat and squeezed. With Kimbley's help, Greed ripped it away and smashed it against the dashboard.

"Hold on," Greed yelled.

Envy braced Winry with his hand as they hit another bump in the road.

Another Shadow Child fumbled at Winry's window, scraping its fingers across the glass. Large scratches appeared in its wake. Winry unlocked the car door and violently pushed it outward, sending the Shadow Child screeching backward and out of sight.

Just as quickly, another Shadow Child tried to squirm in through the open door. It grabbed at Winry's shoulder and pulled, making her cry out. But with a well-timed _whack_ of Winry's wrench, the Shadow Child retreated, clutching its head with one hand.

"Should you even be driving, Greed?" Envy asked, as pedestrians pointed and chattered.

Greed's grin in the rearview mirror was one Envy knew well. It was the "watch _this!_" grin that made everything go to hell in a heartbeat.

Envy held on to Winry's shoulder tighter as Greed made a U-turn and sped toward the remaining Shadow Children. The Shadow Children helpfully ran forward, bony hands outstretched—

And were promptly blown in all directions when the car smashed into them.

Envy watched as the Shadow Children growled and hissed and skittered away, some limping slightly. Winry was shivering, still holding on to Nina. Envy let go of her shoulder, watching her body rattle and begin to slow as the adrenaline wore off.

"You did pretty good," he said softly, as her blue eyes flicked toward his. They were wide and bright, with a hint of fear. "You're not bleeding or anything, right?"

Winry shrugged. "Just a scratch. I'll be fine."

Envy nodded and looked at Kimbley—from what he could see of him in the front seat. "How about you, Kimbley?"

"Well…" Kimbley lifted his right arm, looking uncomfortable. "Miss Rockbell, I'm afraid you'll have to look at this when we get to the inn."

"Why the inn?" Greed asked, now driving a little saner.

"The Shadow Children know where we are now," Kimbley said, "so we should talk with Colonel Mustang about this, perhaps make a new plan. He'll be meeting us in Dublith, and he'll need to be wary. Plus, we need our luggage."

Envy raised an eyebrow. "I guess we'll be driven to Dublith by our chauffeur here. Pretty convenient."

"I'm going to have more guests than I expected." Greed didn't seem worried—not that he ever did. "Hope you guys don't mind a little decadence in your lives."

"What's that?" Nina piped up, peering at Greed. "Is it fun?"

Greed laughed. "I guess so. But I don't know if you or the other kids would find it…_fun_. By the way, what's your name?"

"Nina Tucker. I'm four."

"A fine age to be. So, Nina, do you want to become part of a family?"

Nina nodded eagerly. Envy didn't say anything sarcastic for once—as far as he was concerned, it was one less Shadow Child chasing them down. Besides, Greed had an uncanny knack for making people happy—except when it came to Envy and Dante.

Wrath cheered and took one of Nina's hands in his. "Cool! I have a sister!"

"Showing her around Dublith will be your job, Wrath," Greed said, stopping in front of the _Tin Man Inn. _"I trust you'll keep her safe until she can take care of herself."

Envy snickered. "Just like a father. Looks like you've found your calling, Greed."

Greed looked at him in the rearview mirror, eyes thoughtful. "Like you can talk, loverboy."

Envy muttered an insult from two centuries past under his breath (Greed heard it perfectly) and exited the car, Winry and Kimbley close behind him.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. I do own the ex-Shadow Children (save Nina and Wrath).

Chapter Thirty: In Which There Is A Tour of Sorts and Nail-Painting

* * *

_The second player eyes his pieces, frowning. "There's a decline here."_

_ The first player counts out his pieces. "Looks like it." He grins. "Scared?"_

"_Why should I be? It's only a game." The second player moves his pawn forward, edging it toward enemy lines._

_The first player chuckles._

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

"…And here we are," Greed said wearily, as the two-day drive finally ended.

There was a chorus of relieved sighs and the creaking of stiff limbs.

Dublith was the sort of town one would describe as "ever-moving". Not as bustling as Central, no, but it certainly managed to catch your eye. Children skipped and pottered along the cobblestones, adults went about their business, often boisterously (it was that kind of town). Swindlers swindled, prostitutes wearily strutted their wares, courtesans offered their company, and butchers laid out slabs of meat for your stomach to appraise.

Winry watched as Wrath and Nina ambled toward a particularly gaudy-looking pack of tourists, Wrath's hands gesturing excitedly as he whispered something in her ear. She had no doubt it had something to do with robbing the poor people blind.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and Winry turned to see Envy. "We're here," he said, jerking a thumb behind him.

Winry stared at the rather plain-looking building in front of her. If not for the yellow-and-red sign reading "The Devil's Nest", she would have walked right past it. But then, that may have been the idea—like a woman's bright smile behind a fan. The sign perched above a rather foreboding entryway. The door was in shadow, just barely visible.

"I can't figure out if this is too noticeable or not noticeable enough," Winry said, watching as Greed took the stairs two at a time. "But somehow I'm not surprised at the location."

"Well," Greed said, his expression leering, "it was this or an 'adult shop'. This seemed a little more kid-proof."

With that, Greed opened the door—and three children immediately leapt out at him, cheering at the top of their lungs "Boss is home! Boss is home!"

Winry laughed as Greed pulled the children into a hug, carrying them back inside while gesturing for Winry and the others to come in.

Winry followed him in, and found herself blinking to adjust to the dim light. The first thing that caught her eye was a poker game in progress on a round table in the corner, where five greasy-looking men swigged beer and eyed her appreciatively. They didn't holler, though, which was a good thing. It was still uncomfortable, and so she made a point of ignoring them.

The other thing that caught her eye was how well-stocked the bar appeared to be—but then again, this was Greed's hideout. On the radio, a horse race was being broadcast, while a few onlookers roared out bets. The pub was otherwise empty of people, due to it still being the early part of the afternoon, but booths and couches and tables were waiting patiently for people to arrive. A jukebox churned out the latest jazz single, making Winry's foot tap.

A very, _very _tall middle-aged man built like an ox and with long silver hair strode over to Greed, a sledgehammer in hand. "Welcome back, sir. Everything went smoothly while you were gone."

"Glad to hear it, Loa," Greed said, crouching down beside the children. "Did you all work hard while Wrath and I were gone?"

"Yes, Boss," the children chorused, grinning widely.

"Glad to hear it." Greed gestured toward Winry, Envy and Kimbley. "These are our guests—Winry Rockbell, Zolf J. Kimbley, and Envy. They're going to help us save the Shadow Children."

The children waved and said their hellos. There was a little redheaded girl named Maggie, with a patch over one eye, a boy named Rob (Wrath's friend) who had automail on his left hand, and a boy named Daisy who stood proudly in two automail feet and a simple pink dress.

Greed gestured around the pub, eyebrows raised. "So, what can we do for you?"

Winry hefted her bags. "I'd like to get settled first, and maybe rest for a bit before doing anything else." She turned to Envy and Kimbley. "What about you two?"

Envy shrugged. "Sounds fine by me. I could use a bath."

Kimbley nodded. "I'll probably explore Dublith a little and see if the Colonel has arrived."

"All right then," Greed said, strolling toward another door. "Follow me."

Daisy called cheerily "We'll fetch something pretty for you, Envy!" and followed the other children outside.

Winry laughed as Maggie nudged Daisy playfully in the ribs, clearly teasing him. "They're quite the group."

"Just wait until you see how they work," Greed said, chuckling. "They're good at this life."

Envy just chuckled.

* * *

"These will be your rooms," Greed said, when they reached the second floor. "They're next to the stairs, and there are windows too, so there's always an escape plan. Since the Devil's Nest is also, shall we say, a _disorderly house_, you might find some things you'll want to push to one side."

Winry laughed quietly. "I think we'll be fine."

Greed shrugged. "I had to say it just in case. Anyway, I'll let you guys unpack. There's a bottle of scotch down there with my name on it."

With that, Greed ambled back downstairs, whistling a jaunty tune to himself.

Winry opened one of the doors and stepped inside, dropping her bags on the floor. She heard Envy walk into the other room, already rummaging around.

Despite what Greed had said about being disorderly, the room was perfectly clean and comfortable looking. The bed, she noticed, was larger than she had expected—and bouncier, too. The springs barely creaked when she tested them. There was a closet off to one side.

She noticed something underneath one of the pillows. Pulling it out, she found a "menu" of sorts with the names, personalities and portraits of various courtesans, male and female alike. She looked it over for a moment, tracing the outlines of the faces and the bodies, wondering idly what types of automail would suit them.

Slipping the "menu" back under the pillow, she continued to look around. She placed all of her mechanic equipment on the large desk near the window after finding enough stationary and envelopes to write to Granny Pinako for two years. A chic black phone stood on the desk as well.

_Granny… _Winry smiled at the thought of her small but spry grandmother. _I should call her and tell her I'm in Dublith now. _

Winry had told Granny about her trip to Rush Valley, and who was with her—but not about her relationship with Envy and Kimbley just yet. After all, who knew how long it would last, or what it was anyway? Before she called anyone, however, she wanted to look at the rest of the room.

Peering under the bed, she found an ornate wooden box that rattled when she pulled it into the light. She unsnapped the locks and pulled the top open.

Before she could do anything more, however, she heard a door creak open to her left. Turning, she saw Envy peering owlishly at her from what she'd thought was the closet. He was holding a pillow in one hand, and in the process of fluffing it up.

"…Huh," he said, nudging the door open a little more. "Well, Greed's officially still a pervert. Looks like we have adjoining rooms."

Winry quickly closed the box, but Envy had already seen it, judging by the curious look on his face.

"Hey, what's that you were looking at? Let's see!" Envy laughed and moved forward, feet barely pressing into the carpet.

Winry tried to push the box back under the bed, but it was too heavy. She decided to sit on it instead, daintily crossing her legs and saying coolly "I was just looking around."

Envy raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his chest. "And you don't want me to see this for some reason."

"That's right."

Envy sighed and headed back to his room, obviously playing at being dejected, though the drooping shoulders and dragging feet were rather unconvincing. Winry was determined to open this box on her own, without him making sarcastic commentary along the way.

Winry frowned. _Wait. That makes it sound fun._

With a shake of her head, she hopped off the box and opened it once again. She took out the thingamajig that had caught her eye when she first opened it. It looked like a rounded metal reflex hammer, but there were switches attached, and weird knobby bits that didn't seem to do anything. She switched them on one by one, noting the purr of a motor.

_I can't wait to take it apart!_ Winry let out a delighted squeak, preparing her tools.

While she worked, she heard the sound of water running, and Envy splashing around. He couldn't hold a tune in a bucket, but it was still somehow amusing to hear him sing to himself. She couldn't quite hear the words, but somehow the disjointed tunes held memories of older times and older places.

Twenty minutes later, Winry was still working, humming and swaying side-to-side, oblivious to the world. She'd made progress on the thingamajig—she knew it was a massager (much to her embarrassment), and was in the process of figuring out how the interior worked.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Envy walk in, clad in a fluffy red bathrobe. His hair was wet and loose, looking oddly limp against his skin. He practically oozed relaxation as he perched on the heavy box…and set up a row of nail polish bottles.

"Um…Envy?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?"

"Painting my nails." Envy grinned lazily and unscrewed one of the bottle caps, tapping blobs of polish off the brush. "Surprised?"

"A little." Winry turned back to her work, listening as Envy shifted in his seat. "Is there any particular reason you're doing that?"

"…Maybe." It appeared mischief was on the horizon.

"I see." Winry ran her fingers over the massager, trying to figure out which screws to loosen.

"I saw those sleazeballs sizing you up back there." Envy's tone was deceptively casual. "You didn't seem to like that very much."

"No, no I didn't. Why do you ask?"

"I'm possessive."

Winry turned to look at him, watching as he carefully painted his middle toenail blood red.

"Please don't hurt them. Or kill them."

Envy looked at her askance, eyebrows raised. "You're jumping to conclusions. I wasn't planning on doing either…unless you want me to."

"When would I _ever _want that?"

Envy picked up a new color—purple—and moved on to the next nail, shrugging. "Oh, I don't know. If you were in an alley alone, and those creeps jumped you, and you didn't have your tools handy? Or if they insulted you…or worse."

"So you don't want me to get hurt, then?"

"That's right." Envy's tone was slightly bitter. "Just…be careful around here. This _is _the gritty side of town."

Winry couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Envy."

There was a pause, then: "Damn. Can't you just _hear _the sugary-sweet romantic ballad this sort of scene would spawn in a movie?"

Winry laughed. "But we're not_ in_ a movie, Envy. Or a book either."

"If we _were_, though…" The mischievous tone was back, and along with it an equally mischievous smile.

"…The moment might, unfortunately, be ruined by a third party returning onto the scene," Kimbley said, smiling. "Though I am sorry I interrupted. It was getting rather intriguing."

"What makes you think your showing up was a bad thing?" Envy asked, still painting his nails.

"Well…I bring news. Colonel Mustang and Major Hughes are downstairs."

"_Ah_," Envy said, sighing. "I see. Well, there goes our time alone. Now we have to work."

Winry stood, making sure that she was presentable. "I guess we should go down and see them, then."

Envy pointed to his toes, grinning. "You two go ahead. I'll be there in a few minutes."


	31. Chapter 31

Happy FMA Week (or what remains of it), everyone! I'm sorry for not replying to your reviews in a timely fashion—Real Life has been harping away. Which, unfortunately, also means that the next chapter might not be available for the next few weeks.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, or gin rummy.

Chapter Thirty-One: Wherein Gin Rummy Is Most Certainly A Viable Way To Gain An Ally, Why Do You Ask?

* * *

_The first player's finger rests on his bishop as he glances at the second player._

_ The second player watches as the first player's bishop slants across the board._

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Roy had to admit, the apple cider at the Devil's Nest was quite good. He had a feeling the whiskey would also be worth trying, but he wanted to be sober for the initial dealings. Partying could come later.

Hughes sat next to him at the bar, not drinking anything yet, just taking in the scene. Pictures of Gracia and Alicia were ready to be displayed at any time. Unlike Roy, who was all business down to his clothes, Hughes was more casual—eye-straining tropical shirt casual.

Roy instinctively turned to talk to Hawkeye—and then remembered that she and the rest of the team were back in Central, holding the fort and keeping an eye out for Shadow Children. It was more than a little unsettling, not having Hawkeye by his side, calmly and quietly assessing this new location…but Roy knew full well that she could take care of herself. They all could.

Besides, he had Hughes with him.

Rob—one of Greed's ex-Shadow Children—poured him another glass of cider, balancing carefully on a stool.

"Your name could be taken as a pun, you know," Roy said, as Rob capped the cider bottle.

Rob grinned a gap-toothed grin. "That's why I like it. I was 'Robbie' a little while ago, but now that sounds too babyish, so I'm Rob from here on out."

"It could get a little complicated—'Roy' and 'Rob'."

Rob shrugged. "Eh, we'll figure something out. Like a nickname!"

Roy winced. "Sorry, but I think I'll pass. One nickname is enough."

A barstool squeaked harshly next to him, and the Homunculus Greed sat beside him, nursing a glass of scotch on the rocks. "Sorry about the wait. We can have a private talk once everything else gets under way."

"You seem to have quite a few commodities at work around here." Roy took note of some shapely women lounging in a corner, smiling intimately at anyone who looked their way. "Not all of them quite legal."

Greed laughed. "Oh, don't worry Roy—can I call you that?—they're safe here. I'm nicer than the average pimp. _You're _safe here, too."

Roy felt a little flummoxed. Greed said his name as though he was an old friend, not a potential business partner. But then again, he called everyone else in the bar by their first name—from the tough-as-nails blonde Martel to the confident and eager to please Dolcetto. It seemed Greed made a point to keep on friendly terms with everyone.

"I would prefer 'Colonel Mustang', but then again you Homunculi seem to enjoy messing with names and expectations."

Greed adjusted his sunglasses, grinning a saw-toothed grin. "Oh-_ho. _So Envy decided to give you a nickname, then? Let me guess—'King Stud'? 'Foal'?"

Roy sighed. "'Ponyboy', actually. I guess it's his way of rebelling."

Greed shrugged. "He's always been that way."

"Has he always acted like a bratty teenager?" Roy saw Hughes get up out of the corner of his eye and walk over to Winry and Kimbley, who had just entered the room.

"Well…" Greed scratched his head. "He kind of _is _one. See, we Homunculi are based on a dead loved one, as an attempt to bring them back to life. Envy's 'base' was a young man who had died of mercury poisoning. So whoever created him had a young man in mind—a son, to be precise—and what they got was just that. The world ages, and we don't. We're stuck at whatever age our 'base' died."

Roy thought of Envy's slouching, sarcastic demeanor and felt a little uneasy. "He's old, isn't he?"

"The oldest, with yours truly next in line. But enough about that." Greed stood up, gesturing toward an open door. "Looks like there's a free room."

Roy followed Greed through the growing crowd of people, noting the smiles and waves and back-slaps Greed received. It was clear as day who had the power in this "den of sin". More than a few women looked about to swoon. The appeal of money, power, and good looks, no doubt.

The room Greed chose for the meeting was a small, comfortable room with two plump red velvet sofas that squished invitingly when you sat on them. And a liquor cabinet with glasses close at hand. Roy took the seat closest to the door.

"So," Greed said, swirling his scotch lazily. "You want to make a deal with me. An alliance."

"That's right." Roy sipped his apple cider, keeping himself poised and collected. "I'll get to the point. This country is corrupt. I plan to change that. By becoming Fuhrer."

Greed raised an eyebrow. "Well, _hell, _Roy Mustang. That's a tricky goal." He leaned forward in his seat, his hands between his knees. "How, exactly, do you plan on going about this?"

"Ideally, I'd like to gather followers and launch a peaceful protest. But since this world isn't exactly ideal, I think a coup is the way to go."

"…And you'll get on the public's good side _how?_"

"By protecting them. First, by protecting those directly below me, and those below me would protect those below them, and so on. By the end you have a continuous stream of protection flowing through the land."

There was silence for a moment as Greed digested this. He drank more of his scotch, his eyes never leaving Roy's face. Roy held his gaze, despite the fact that they weren't human eyes. They were cool and old and the kind that could see down into your soul and find every weakness.

Suddenly, Greed smiled. "Let's play a game, you and I. Gin rummy. Loser helps the winner in any _reasonable_ endeavor for as long as he wishes."

"…'Reasonable', being…?"

"What the loser is comfortable with." Greed adjusted his sunglasses. "For the record, I like my…_possessions_…willing and happy."

"Interesting choice of words." Roy allowed himself a smile. "But why gin rummy?"

"Would you rather force me, or vice versa?" Greed placed his glass on the table. "Thought not. Best two out of three?"

"Sounds good."

Greed pulled a deck of cards out of his vest and began to dole them out, whistling quietly.

* * *

It was getting late in Central, and Breda was absolutely sure he could win another round of poker, but Riza felt obligated to gently remind everyone that like it or not, they had work to do tomorrow.

Not too long ago, there had been a large crowd of fellow soldiers in their little corner of the mess hall, laughing and cheering as the stakes (dessert) grew higher and higher. Now that only Breda and Falman were left actually playing the game, the fun had apparently gone out of it for the average viewer. Riza, however, held a different opinion on that matter.

The mess hall itself was practically deserted. Long white tables were being cleared of crumbs and spilled drinks by diligent janitors. Dirt and dust from army boots was being dusted out of sight. The marble floor was in obvious need of waxing. And yet, here they were, Mustang's team relaxing and enjoying themselves for the first long game of cards they'd had in awhile.

But work came before play, as always.

Havoc sighed and put out his cigarette in the nearby ash tray, dropping his hand of cards onto the table. "I'm not sure if I'm jealous of the Colonel or not. On the one hand, vacation. On the other hand, having to stick around with _Envy and Kimbley._"

Shadows flickered on the wall.

"Though y'know," Breda said, his chubby face breaking into a sly grin, "the Rockbell lady seems to be keeping them in line. The Colonel's probably too busy sweet-talking a waitress or something to worry about those two wackos."

Riza smiled and let the comment fade into the good-natured laughter of her friends in arms. "Perhaps. Anyway, he'll be back before we know it, so we'll have to keep everything running as best we can."

There was a hearty (but still somewhat tired) chorus of "yes, ma'ams" as everyone began to pack up. Lights were already flickering out as they trooped through the door, still talking.

Riza watched the shadows on the wall, her senses keyed for anything off. There—in the middle of the shuffling boots, the _slap _and _crack _of bone.

The others heard it too. Guns were drawn, then…lowered slightly.

Havoc let out a muffled curse of disbelief.

"Good evening. I hope you all don't mind coming with me. We have business to take care of."

The Fuhrer smiled.


	32. Chapter 32

Hallo, everyone!

I'm sorry for the wait—these past few months have been an exercise in staying sane—but here it is, my gift to you this holiday/winter season. I hope you're all enjoying yourselves and spending time with loved ones—and thank you all for enjoying this fic so far!

To answer a question that has been asked quite a bit: yes, this is manga!Kimbley, because when I tried writing first anime!Kimbley he…pretty much wandered out of the picture. There wasn't enough wanton murder for him. Manga!Kimbley, however, being a gentlemanly mad artist, decided to take his place. And we are all happy he did.

To answer another question: my personal favorite Roy Mustang scenes are when he's being a clever strategist. Don't worry, the Flame Alchemist will use his alchemy eventually, but obviously our heroes(?) need a well-thought-out plan before they can storm Dante's mansion. And Roy is, after all, the Man With The Plan.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot and the Shadow Children.

Chapter Thirty-Two: In Which The Ante Goes Up

* * *

_The second player's pawn moves ever closer._

_ The first player watches, smiles. _

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Greed looked down at the rows of cards, then up at Roy. "Well, would you look at that! Looks like the odds were in my favor tonight."

Greed knew of humans like Roy. Roy would go through the flames of Hell stark naked if that meant his dreams would come to fruition.

And it was clear Roy was unsure how to react. After all, he was now under the thumb of a Homunculus, although it was just "within reason".

But Roy simply nodded and smiled—a warm, genuine smile. "Good game."

"And you." Greed grinned. "Though I get the feeling you're more comfortable with games of strategy than chance."

"You're right. Chess in particular."

Greed cocked his head to one side. "How long have you been planning this coup of yours, anyway?"

"Since 1908."

Greed whistled. "Now _that's_ a long-term goal."

Greed liked humans like Roy. Back in the old days, dreamers were often too busy getting out from under the boot of oppressors—and often crushed for their troubles—to make any long-range plans. It was a pleasant surprise to see a stiff-backed soldier worming his way up the ranks, carefully avoiding the watchful eyes from above and below.

Roy leaned back in his chair. "Well, you've won, so now what?"

Greed smiled, nodded and picked up his glass of scotch. He swirled the contents at eye level and watched Roy's image through the glass ripple and shake.

"Well…the first order of business is to share another drink. Then we go party. And after that, if you're not about to keel over, we'll talk about how to save the Shadow Children."

Roy stared at Greed, unblinking. Greed sighed.

"It's the teeth, isn't it."

"Uh…" Roy scratched his head. "Well, I'd be lying if I said I've seen teeth that pointy before. It's not a problem, really. I'm just a bit surprised—every time I see that grin of yours."

Greed shrugged. "You're not the first one to be surprised, trust me. But you'll get used to it in time. I don't bite, promise." And because he liked Roy's reactions, he added: "Unless, of course, you want me to."

Roy let out a surprised laugh. "I'll keep that in mind."

Greed briefly wondered where Lust had gone to. The library was probably closed, so she should have returned.

_Oh, whatever, _Greed thought, adjusting his sunglasses. _She can take care of herself._

Greed poured out another glass of scotch and handed it to Roy. "To new best friends?"

Roy took the glass and clinked it against Greed's. "To new allies."

* * *

Envy nudged Kimbley with his foot, gesturing to the dancing throng in front of them. "Well?"

Kimbley sipped his Earl Gray tea. "Sorry, but I'm afraid not."

"Why not?" Envy pouted. "Look, Winry's out there having fun!"

"Which begs the question of why _you _aren't having fun yourself."

Envy watched Winry jump and step and twirl with the sort of liveliness he had grown to expect from her. "I will. I'm just waiting for the right moment."

Kimbley laughed softly. "By which you mean you're nervous."

"Not a chance."

Kimbley sipped his tea and gave Envy a raised eyebrow, sideways glance. Envy, not yet entirely fluent in "Kimblish", looked back questioningly, and shrugged.

Envy stood and slipped over to Winry, easing her into a quickstep. A bit surprised at first, Winry was soon smiling and moving in time with him. Her hands were calloused and warm in his.

"Kimbley doesn't want to dance," Envy whispered in Winry's ear. "I'm not sure why."

Winry frowned.

Envy shrugged and spun her around. "I just want to see him have some fun."

"How…_nice _of you." Winry's brows furrowed. "Are you two planning something?"

Envy tried to look innocent. He failed miserably, as always. He never could get that emotion right.

Winry shook her head, laughing quietly. "I should've known."

She looked back at Kimbley, and a new sort of smile appeared on her face. It was warm and knowing and very, very mischievous. Her eyes held a glint of cunning. Envy quite liked the expression, and hoped to see it on her more often.

"…You know what," Winry said—her mischievous tone was music to Envy's ears—"lets invite him. It could be fun."

"Sounds good," Envy said with a grin, turning back to Kimbley and extending his hand. "Want to dance, Red Lotus Alchemist?"

Kimbley put down his tea and stood up, looking both amused and mildly exasperated all at once.

Winry laughed and took his hand, curling her fingers in his.

It became evident that Kimbley _was _quite good at dancing—ballroom dancing. Envy stepped back and watched as Kimbley guided Winry along the floor, his movements graceful and refined. It was obvious he'd had practice. It was equally obvious Winry was enjoying herself.

A few songs later, and the trio were laughing and moving as freely as everyone else in The Devil's Nest.

* * *

An hour later, Kimbley slipped out of The Devil's Nest. Envy walked beside him, as silent as a cat on the cobblestones.

Winry was resting in her room, calling her grandmother. She would be asleep when they returned.

The plan was to hunt for Shadow Children—and if not them, then anyone who worked with, or for them. Once found, interrogations would begin. And if they didn't talk…well, boorish behavior would be corrected.

Kimbley smiled as the moon peeked between the buildings, causing his white suit to glow.

"Is something wrong?" he whispered to Envy, who was looking from side to side, alert.

"…I can hear something. Voices." Envy stood motionless, staring down the street. "Heavy boots. Soldier's boots."

Then Kimbley could hear them too, marching closer. "I think we should find a bit of cover."

"Good idea." Envy snuck down an alleyway, hiding behind a trash bin.

Kimbley followed and crouched down beside him, watching as the soldiers came into view. The soldiers muttered and growled to each other. They were herding two own their own, blindfolded and handcuffed in their midst, pushing and prodding.

Two very familiar soldiers.

"It's Lieutenant Hawkeye and Warrant Officer Falman!" Kimbley whispered, before being yanked backward by Envy.

"Hang on, they're coming this way," Envy whispered, his breath tickling Kimbley's neck.

The soldiers began to move down the alleyway, stomping on the cobblestones.

Envy and Kimbley squeezed themselves are far behind the dumpster as they possibly could. Kimbley tried not to add to the noise as Envy's hair brushed his nose. A sneeze was imminent.

"_Envy._"

Envy pressed a finger to his lips, hissing "Sssh."

Kimbley brushed the green strand out of his face and listened as the soldiers marched unknowingly past them. It didn't take long before the group had filed past completely. With that, Envy stood, helped Kimbley up, and they quietly followed the soldiers on to another street.

"So," Kimbley whispered, "what's the plan?"

Envy stepped lightly over a crack. "Can you untie knots?"

"Yes, of course. You can't?"

"I can. I wanted to know if _you _could." Envy's grin was sharp and beautiful in its wickedness. "I'm going to distract them, while you untie the Lieutenant and the Wise Guy."

"Alright," Kimbley said, as Envy slipped away into the shadows.

Kimbley slid off his shoes and snuck as carefully as he could up behind the ranks. He stopped short with the rest of them when, looking like something out of a nightmare, Envy appeared in front of them.

A slavering, never-blinking, jagged-toothed nightmare.

The moon shone down on the hairy boils, the dripping tentacles, the fur that looked suspiciously like barbed wire.

Kimbley wasn't sure how Envy had thought up the "tentacled wolf with eyes everywhere" disguise, but he had to congratulate him—it truly was a thing of beauty.

He quickly remembered what he was about when the monster's tentacles wriggled meaningfully, splattering a few soldiers with unspecified goop, and seemed to gesture to him, as if saying "_Well?_"

Shaken from his reverie, Kimbley made his way to Hawkeye and Falman.

But before he got to them, a few foolish soldiers had the charming idea of shooting Envy. It didn't work very well. In response, Envy used his new tentacles to snatch the soldiers and bash them against every available surface. The less foolish soldiers decided to turn tail, dragging their prisoners behind them. Kimbley ran after them, hearing the familiar crackle as Envy shifted into a different form.

_I wonder what he'll be this time? _Kimbley thought with a smile, and a shudder.

It wasn't long before he caught up with the soldiers, sweating and shaking as they were. So did Envy, standing in his usual form with blood smeared across his pale skin like war paint. The soldiers seemed caught between fear and confusion. Their apparent leader—a gray-haired man with hands used to rough work—drew his saber from its sheath and prepared to fight.

"These are prisoners of war," the old soldier said, his voice harsh and deep. "If you're trying to save them, you're out of luck."

Envy cocked his head to one side, saying nothing. Kimbley crept closer, keeping his eyes on Hawkeye and Falman. They were standing silently, heads bowed, trying to wriggle out of their bonds without anyone noticing.

"No answer? Very well." With that, the old soldier lunged forward, sword raised.

Envy spun out of the way of the blade, his knee slamming into the old soldier's gut as he moved. The sword gleamed in the moonlight as it slid across Envy's chest, cutting cleanly through the black shirt and white skin beneath. Envy stumbled back, giving the old soldier an opening. The sword thrust forward into Envy's exposed belly.

While the distracted soldiers cheered, Kimbley worked feverishly on untying the prisoners. It was taking longer than expected. He could almost hear Envy's voice: _I thought you said you could untie knots! _Chuckling to himself, Kimbley took out his knife and quickly cut the ropes.

Hawkeye was free, eyes dark and burning. Then Falman.

Hawkeye quickly stole a stunned soldier's handgun and began firing, felling one, two, three soldiers. Including Envy's elderly foe, whose sword slid out of Envy and fell to the ground.

Hawkeye continued firing until Kimbley rested a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "We'll need some alive."

Hawkeye warily lowered her gun, then suddenly raised it. Envy had fallen to the ground, revealing Fuhrer Bradley standing behind him, his own sword firmly in hand.

"Leave us," he ordered the remaining soldiers.

Needing little encouragement, with a quick salute they left, carrying their dead with them.

Envy twitched on the ground, slowly healing. "_You._" His voice was thick and hoarse.

"Me," the Fuhrer said calmly. "As that old soldier said, Lieutenant Hawkeye and Warrant Officer Falman are prisoners of war. By my orders."

"Why?" Hawkeye asked, her gun still aimed at his chest. "We've been loyal to you for years."

The Fuhrer's lip curled disdainfully. "Not while that foolish whelp _Mustang_ has you in his sway. You understand I can't have upstarts derailing my plans for this country."

Envy's laugh was brittle and equally disdainful. "_Your _plans? What, did Dante actually decide to let her precious puppet grow a brain?" Envy straightened up, his posture much too relaxed for his slowly-healing condition and the situation at hand. "Gotta say, I'm shocked."

As easy as breathing, the Fuhrer slid into the _en garde _stance. "You have no room to talk, Envy. Your death is standing in front of you, after all."

"Envy," Kimbley said slowly, "is the Fuhrer—"

"Yes, Alchemist," the Fuhrer said coldly, reaching for his eyepatch and pulling it away. "I am also a Homunculus. A rare breed, in fact. One who can age."

Kimbley stared with growing understanding at the Ouroborus tattoo glowing blood-red in the Fuhrer's scarred eye. The plot had just thickened considerably.

"You may call me Pride. And this is my Ultimate Eye."


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Only this plot.

Chapter Thirty-Three: In Which There Is A Rush

* * *

_The first player's pawn _clacks _loudly against another square, closer to enemy lines._

_ The second player looks on solemnly._

_ The pieces are moving._

* * *

Kimbley watched as Envy bared his teeth, his body hunched, his entire body tense. Envy's wounds were healing, in the bright sparks that Kimbley was growing used to, but who knew what that "Ultimate Eye" of Pride's was capable of?

"Kimbley," Envy said quietly, barely turning his head. "If I get hurt—_really _hurt—I want you to bring me back to Greed's place. Depending on the wounds, it could take awhile, so…don't let Winry see. Do whatever you have to to distract yourselves."

"Why?" Kimbley asked.

Envy shrugged. "Because this might get a little messy."

Pride scoffed. "You may be certain of that."

"You know, _Puppet_," Envy said, his mocking tone harsher than usual, "you and I never did get to have an all-out brawl while I was still in Dante's care. This could be…_enlightening._"

And with the word "enlightening", Envy's wounds were healed.

Pride said nothing—simply leapt forward, his face a cold mask. Envy quickly stepped out of the way, a few locks of hair clipped off in the process. The sword arced through the air, aiming for Envy's eyes, and instead scraping at his headband, slicing it open and rendering it useless. It fluttered into Envy's hand, limp and smeared slightly with blood.

Kimbley stepped forward, but Envy stopped him with an outstretched hand.

"Now, now, Kimbley, don't lose faith in me yet!"

With that, Envy tossed the headband into Pride's face, temporarily distracting him. Envy slammed his elbow into Pride's stomach, causing him to stumble back.

Envy straightened up, already moving to a different position. Pride—a little slower than before, it seemed—moved in the opposite direction, causing them both to circle each other, never blinking.

"You let me hit you." Envy shook his head, his toes curling and uncurling on the ground. "Typical."

Pride's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps I'm getting on in years. I should practice more."

Envy chuckled. "You young whippersnappers, always putting yourselves down. You're not letting your elders do it for you!"

Envy suddenly moved forward, legs first into a side kick, knocking Pride into a nearby wall. Before he could retaliate, Envy slammed his fist into Pride's neck, rendering him a coughing wreck.

For only a moment.

Envy had been fighting regularly for quite some time, and Kimbley had no doubt that the Red Stones were depleting faster than usual. Pride, by contrast, had regained all the energy in the world.

Sparks crackled and Pride's wounds were healed, and Envy was suddenly screaming in agony as Pride's sword began cutting through his limbs quicker than he could heal. He dropped to the ground, bleeding onto the cobblestones, struggling to heal.

Pride swung his sword quicker than Kimbley's eye could see, and in an instant Envy's head was severed from his neck.

"I think," Pride said in the unsettling silence, "that settles things. For the moment, anyway."

Hawkeye barely even blinked before firing her gun. Pride dodged the bullet easily.

"This"—Pride kicked Envy's broken body—"is what happens to those who defy my master and myself. Would you like to try it?"

"Of course," Kimbley said, feeling his voice grow taut with anger. "Envy hates cowards."

Pride's mustache quirked upward in a cold smile. "Such loyalty to a revolting creature. Very well." His sword still slick with Envy's blood, he pointed it at Kimbley. "I will honor your request."

"As will I," a soft, haunting alto said from behind Kimbley.

Pride's cold smile grew colder. "Well, well. This seems to be my lucky night. Two traitors Master wants murdered both here in town."

Kimbley craned his head and saw a beautiful woman place a bag of books gently onto the ground. She was the sort of woman romantics would call "ebony-haired and ivory-skinned", and Kimbley wished he could think of other ways to describe her, but the possibility of death put a damper on that sort of thing.

He did, however, notice the Ouroborus tattoo above her cleavage. Which meant only one thing…

"Would your name happen to be Lust?" Kimbley asked, as the Homunculus woman stepped easily in front of him, her posture determined and ready to fight.

"Yes. And I would appreciate it very much if you took Envy away from here. He needs time to heal."

Before Kimbley could say or do anything, Lust's elegant hand suddenly obtained very long talons just as black and beautiful as her hair. She ran toward Pride, her talons scraping harshly against the ground.

There was an abrasive _clang _as blade met blade, sparks scattering in the air. The two seemed to dance, their bodies slipping in and out of shadow and light.

With the two fighters occupied, Kimbley grabbed Envy (or what remained of him) and took off, Hawkeye and Falman behind him.

* * *

When they returned to the Devil's Nest, Hawkeye went to find Colonel Mustang and explain what happened, while Kimbley made his way upstairs, taking care no one else saw Envy's damaged body.

True to Envy's word, it was already healing, albeit slowly. The arms were halfway regenrated, muscles snaking into being as the electric tang of alchemy filled the air. Kimbley's heart wouldn't stop racing. His body shivered and tingled with that glorious rush of adrenaline. He was nearly delirious as he crept up the stairs, his mouth stretched into a rictus grin.

Once he made it to their room, he found himself fumbling with the keys, his hands still shaking slightly. He unlocked the door and made his way inside, gently depositing Envy on the bed.

"I don't know if—if you can hear me," Kimbley said, finally calming down enough to loosen his tie. "But if you can, I hope you'll be healed soon—tomorrow, preferably. We have things to discuss."

There came a uncertain knock from the door leading to Winry's room. "Mr. Kimbley? Is something wrong?"

Kimbley's heart beat faster, and his body suddenly felt entirely too warm. "Bad timing", on both his and Winry's part, did not even begin to cover it.

Kimbley sucked in a breath, exhaled. "Well, yes and no. 'Yes', because Envy and I just returned from a difficult fight, and he is currently healing." He made his way to the door, sliding off his shoes on the way. "And yet 'no', because Envy will no doubt be back to normal soon."

"…Can I come in?" Winry asked, her voice muffled by the door.

Kimbley opened the door for her, not entirely sure whether or not to block Envy's body from her sight. Winry looked worried, but not too much so. The sleeves of her pink pajamas nearly swallowed her hands, leaving only the tips of her fingers visible. Her hair was down, rumpled by sleep, and she was missing a button on her pajama top. The remaining buttons were lopsided, in the wrong holes.

"It might be best to stay in your room, Miss Rockbell," Kimbley said, as the familiar sound of sparks erupted behind him. "It's…rather disturbing."

"For you, or for me?" Winry's voice was neither insulting nor mocking, but curious.

Kimbley smiled. "For both of us."

"Oh." Winry frowned. "Mr. Kimbley, are you alright?"

Kimbley shrugged. "It's just…rather exciting, you know, finding yourself alive and well after a rather tense battle. There's this feeling of being _alive_, it's intoxicating, really."

Winry nodded, fidgeting slightly. "I understand."

_So you do, no doubt, _Kimbley thought, watching Winry's eyelashes flutter as she blinked.

Silence stretched between the doors, until Kimbley snapped it in two: "Envy has requested he be left alone tonight. If you wouldn't mind, I would like to stay with you, if it's not too inconvenient. Envy has managed to get himself diced…but not sautéed."


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.

Chapter Thirty-Four: In Which Sleep Is Not An Option

* * *

_With something like a snort, the second player moves his bishop diagonally across the table, and in the process knocks the first player's knight over. The head of the steed falls off._

"_Not a problem," the first player says, as he picks up the knight's head and secures it to its pedestal. _

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Winry wasn't quite sure what to do, now that Kimbley was in her room. Try to go to sleep? Talk? Or…?

Kimbley shrugged off his coat, folding it carefully. "Where should I put this, Miss Rockbell?"

"Um…over the chair, please. I don't think it'll get too wrinkled there, if it's okay with you."

Kimbley draped his coat over the chair, softly humming a discordant melody. Winry sat down on the bed, finding herself watching the way Kimbley's hands loosened his tie, easy and practiced. For a moment, she was fascinated.

After sliding open the first button on his waistcoat, Kimbley looked back toward the door. "Excuse me a moment, Miss Rockbell. I need to check on Envy."

"Can I help?" Winry dangled her legs over the side of the bed.

"No, it's alright. Envy looks…messy, but he's healing up."

"…Oh."

Winry found herself staring at his tie before he left the room, his ponytail bouncing.

She looked at the window outside, noting that the moon was already sinking. A few stray stars speckled in the dark.

A few moments later, Kimbley returned. He looked less worried than before, something Winry could appreciate. It had been unsettling, seeing calm, collected Kimbley in such a nervous state.

"Is he okay?" Winry asked.

"He's fine…less messy than before. Nothing to fret over."

Winry sighed. "…I like the tie."

Kimbley looked at her. "The tie?"

"Yes, I like it. I hadn't noticed it before."

"It was a gift."

"From someone special?"

Kimbley smiled. "You could say that."

Winry found herself bouncing lightly on the bed, strangely elated as Kimbley stood before her. She couldn't help but notice that Kimbley was deep in thought as he unbuttoned the second and third buttons of the waistcoat.

"It's been quite a day," Winry said.

Kimbley paused at the third button. "Hmm?"

"It's been quite a day," Winry repeated.

"So it has."

Kimbley suddenly rebuttoned his waistcoat and grabbed his tie.

"What are you doing?" Winry asked.

"Get dressed. We have something to do."

* * *

"Is it late, or are these streets always this empty?" Winry asked.

"It _is_ rather quiet," Kimbley replied.

The two walked mostly in silence, the streetlights marking their progress.

"Where are we going?" Winry asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We need to get a closer look at what we're up against."

"Dante's place?"

"Yes. But from a distance."

"What do you expect to find?"

"I don't know. I just want to get a feel for the place."

"The Shadow Children?"

"Exactly."

"Could they be following us?"

Kimbley smiled. "That's why you have your…_accessories_ with you. And I have mine. And, with Envy rehabilitating, as it were, I suspect that they are laying low. Dante must be planning her next move, so we have a few moments."

"How is it," Winry asked, "that Dante gets innocent kids to do such horrible things?"

"It isn't candy."

"Whose kids are they, anyway?"

"There are a lot of questions, and all of them unanswered for now. But hold that thought."

They passed the last streetlight and found themselves staring into darkness. There was no light. There was no path.

"Where are we going? Are we going in?" Winry's whisper had quieted even further.

"No, not yet. Come, this way."

They began to skirt the edge of the darkened trees.

* * *

It was early morning when they heard the noise of running water coming through the dark. They had seen nothing in the last hour, and were nearly halfway around the shroud of trees. In the dim light, they could see water issue from a granite arch. Kimbley stared into the darkness within the archway. There was a stone path that ran along the inside of the arch, following the stream.

"We're not going in there, are we?" Winry asked anxiously.

"No, but do you see those steps on the far side of the brook?"

"…Yes…"

"Don't worry, not tonight. But lets keep going around this dreary place. There may be other means of entry."

"Oh, good."

* * *

By the time they got back to the rooms, and after finding no other possible entries to Dante's mansion, it was nearly dawn. Kimbley, as before, removed his tie and threw it over the chair and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

Winry had gone into the bathroom to change. Stopping at the second button of his waistcoat, Kimbley went to check on Envy.

When he returned, Winry in her nightgown asked "How is he?"

"He's still a work in progress, but there's been some improvement."

"Good," Winry sighed before she collapsed on the bed and pulled the covers over her.

Kimbley undressed slowly, the picture of the granite steps etched in his mind. Winry wasn't aware that she man sleeping next to her that evening was naked.


	35. Chapter 35

Forgive the shortness, but this is what I can give you for now.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, only this plot.

Chapter Thirty-Five: In Which The Chapter Is Short and Sweet…Perhaps Too Short

* * *

_The first player chuckles as the knight's head falls off yet again. "Be more careful next time, won't you?"_

"_As long as you will." The second player gestures. "Your turn."_

_The pieces are moving._

* * *

Winry woke up to the sounds of wood clacking against wood.

She cracked open her eyes and winced at the sun blasting in through the window, pulling the covers up over her head. She heard wood slip-scratching across the floor, with footsteps barely audible through the noise.

"A-_hem._" Kimbley cleared his throat, obviously standing next to her bed. "Miss Rockbell, you are cordially invited to a training session outside, with Envy and I. We have the leftovers from breakfast waiting."

Winry groaned and burrowed further under the covers. "Can it wait?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Ah." Winry lifted a corner of her warm fortress and peered out at Kimbley. "Why?"

"Because sooner or later there's going to be a battle against a very powerful alchemist and her henchmen, as well as the military no doubt. And it would be nice to give you as many weapons as possible to make sure you survive."

It was so warm and comfortable, and the dreams were so fascinating…and she had been up so late…

The blankets were pulled away, and Winry curled herself into a ball, trying her best to keep that precious warmth while the cold air battered at her skin. She was determined this morning to sleep as long as possible, battles be damned. Finally, she opened her eyes.

Kimbley wasn't the blanket thief. He stood calmly by the bed holding two wooden practice swords. It was Envy, grinning, perched on the bedpost and looking as healthy as ever.

"You've slept long enough, I think," Envy said, letting the blankets crumple back onto the mattress. "If you don't hurry, there won't be any food left."

Winry sighed and sat up, trying her best to glare at Envy regardless of her sleep-gummed eyes. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

Envy rested his chin in his hand. "Because I was hungry, Kimbley is too gentlemanly to wake you up after your little adventure last night, and—well, _would_ you have gotten up any earlier?"

"…No."

Envy hopped off the bedpost and sauntered toward the door, resting his hand on the smooth knob. "Alright, good, good. I'll meet you both outside."

Winry fumbled out of bed, hand outstretched. "Envy, wait—are you feeling better?"

Envy turned to look at her, mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Of course. I probably slept more than you did."

Winry found herself laughing and wrapping her arms around him, breathing in the electric scent of his hair. "I'm glad you're okay."

She felt Envy tense, then slowly relax into her embrace, one hand resting on her back. "Um…good."


	36. Chapter 36

Hallo! Since I seem to be burned out on _Dolls_ for the moment, be it writing fight scenes to character interaction (as well as working on original fiction and a fanfic for _The Dark Knight_), I am putting _Dolls_ on an official hiatus. I'm not going to give up on it (I know how I want this to end), but I am taking a break from raging at a blank document.

But since I _do _know how the Shadow Children are created, I'll give you their origin as a consolation prize.

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. I own The Shadow Children and their making.

Chapter Thirty-Six: In Which The Shadow Children Are Explained In The Form of Dante's Journal

_The Children Project_

_Entry #1:_

_Have begun luring children away from their homes. Those who will never be missed. Any who try to resist watch their families die._

_20 children to date. Enough for now._

_Entry #2:_

_Locked children in cellar, fed them well. The alchemical array is currently being sketched, adjusted. This must work perfectly. I have no time for mistakes._

_Entry #3:_

_Beginning to cut the food rations. The children are crying. I will not listen. I need them to be hungry._

_Entry #4:_

_Have taken three children out of the cellar, brought them to my study. They are thin, hungry, mewling. They look at me with pleading eyes, and I feel nothing but cold satisfaction. They are almost ready._

_Entry #5:_

_Array almost complete. I will need more chalk, I think. One child—one of the three—bit another, tore off skin and gnawed at muscle. Not yet, child. Not yet._

_Entry #6:_

_Brought the same three children to my study. Placed them in the array. Clapped my hands and opened The Gate. The beings from inside were called forth, and the children were too weak to object. The creatures fed, and when they did, I mended them both, child and shadow, until they became one. They are hungry. I have sent them out to feed and search for other children._

_Entry #7:_

_Brought in more children, activated the array. This time things did not go so well. The children were not strong enough, or hungry enough—their bodies melted, and only their bones are left. The True Children ate the remains, fought over the white fat._

_Entry #8:_

_The array has been adjusted. The results are far cleaner. I am running low on subjects, it seems. I must get more, and soon._

_Entry #9:_

_I am amassing an army quicker than I had ever dreamed. And yet the process is not quite fast enough. I must think this over…_

_Entry #9:_

_Attempted to enhance menstruation process in the girl-subjects. It seemed to go smoothly until their bones broke from the strain of sudden growth. I have given them to my True Children as a gift, of sorts._

_Entry #10:_

_The Broken Girls are still alive, somehow. Fascinating. The True Children have not devoured them; in fact they seem to be caring for them. They should only care for me, and as a result I must adjust them accordingly._

_Entry #11:_

_One of the Broken Girls gave birth today: another globulous True Child with a ravenous hunger. I had nothing to fear after all. The Broken Girl herself is dead, torn apart by the birth. The others weep. Do not cry, little ones; you are no longer useless to me._

_Entry #12:_

_The True Children are evolving, it seems, mutating from formless shadows to dark skeletons. The bones burst from their "skin" which turns to ash as it falls. The process is painful, judging by their cries. Perhaps it is their hunger that creates their screams? Regardless, I am pleased at these new developments._

_Entry #13: _

_My body is failing far sooner than I had hoped. I will need a new body soon, one young and beautiful. Some of the girl-subjects are growing into maturity; they are growing ripe and curved and soft. And I have always adored being young._

_I shall bring them to my study, to inspect them. There must be a perfect fit somewhere._

_Entry #14:_

_I was right in my assumptions: one girl-subject was barely 15, just small for her age. I will begin grooming her shortly._

_Entry #15:_

_My army is strong, my body is fresh and young and smooth again. All I need is the death of Envy and all affiliated with him. Then all will be well. I will have nothing to worry over. And this country will stay in the palm of my hand forever. _


End file.
